This is a time to consult the rumbles of the stomach.
Night has come and gone again...
All the clever realisticles have melted
In an epileptic puddle as the last lightning bolts
Picked up all their toys
Returning to the trailer park caverns
From whence they erupted
Not as long ago. Has another stooped to find
Has something the matter been?
Has birds their fearts boiled
Dropping into the gear housings
Of mud cakes with the right certification
Lovely? Where have you offed yourself to?
Just yesterday, (was it not?), with dreams as technicolor
As cotton-candy on a Ferris Wheel
And now, here, today....
Only steel grey clouds masking the moon.
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