Deceiving Evenings

there’s a grey cat sitting on my shoulder singing the drunken songs of the crying jag so that’s why she finally didn’t come over? with silver rings on her eyelashes with green aurora in her sunglasses should I be worried when walls slowly fade away? leaving the crooked winds flood my hollow room whatever, I’ll be glad with my form of clay when there’s a thrill in the air, I assume I’m nothing in nothingness a hole in the void and shards of her killing glance made me schizoid wave, wave and wave from afar but leavings will always be bizarre so long, adieu, goodbye (so far) and don’t forget to send a postcard