it's medication time.

he was hoping for some sorta clarity at some point.

oh well.

so much for expectations.

so much for anyone knowing what they do.

someone loud on a turned up microphone.

everyone goes ga-ga-ga.

as a spaceship hovers nearby he sits before the computer dunking ginger snaps in his coffee thinking about nothing but everything here gliding through the moment now as he hopes for the best yet expecting the worst.

typing out not poem he lights a cigarette.

he slept most of the day away and kinda awake by now, but not actually.

actually he is asleep for 1001 years.

one can never be too sure of anything.

this graceless confusion of mind unable to break away from itself lounging leisurely down by the river flowing to the underground sea.

an incessant babbling of words to overcome.

what is the message?

what is our mission now?

we must try not to forget while wild seaweed tangles in our hair as a talking toad leads the way to our fortune.

we toss the old bones to conjure up a reading.

they advise us to continue onward.

cabbages on parade through the moonless night secretly unassuming to anyone not paying much attention busy with their phones.

is there anything happening at all?

not that you would probably notice.

that's the game and how it is played here in the best and worst of all possible worlds.

who can argue with that?

the wise guys speak of sacred things.

we are disgraceful in our anguished joy untouched by plausibility.

we are obviously the problem here.

they ask us politely to leave.

gladly as we kiss them all goodbye and go looking for a good place to get a decent cheeseburger around here on the edge of space and time.

what?

(to be continued...)