It is imperative I blurt out in blunders, swing swiftly from branch to branch, duplicitous whilst the duped deal dauntingly the day. Beneath their feet, against their walls, humbly standing, kneeling tall, I ejaculate the gesture infinite–the sinking waves of cosmic ecstasy–the tongue a tiny flame unable to be tamed, igniting an unrestrained holocaust. Frame by frame, like a jaundiced junky on a train, I slouch bent aching backbone slightly pained…the agony–a friend. How dare I ponder at the poignancy of shame, the alabaster talons of the angry bastard I became. The expediency of immortality a surge now running through my veins. The ardent crayola sun gyrating before the endless pastel-blue, depleting now the deity I’ve become, and run, I do, to showers on a darker side of my quiet, ever-quiet glowing moon. This mortal madness, masterpiece engaged, now hanging on my wall, by a golden baroqued-frame.
“Hey, man, what are you thinking?” came the voice from a coworker laced in feigned interest and mild complaint.
“Nothing,” I replied almost whispering, caressing my lips and staring somewhere off again.