War Socks

Walking home tonight the bourealis at its peak walking in the circles in my mind of the maze of the mansion i realise i am wearing camoflauge war socks and marching home peacefully and as the gods told me it was time to take reality for a walk i closed my eyes and saw the blueprint i had and then just described it now i'm thinking of the flag in my room of the pirate skull and my other blue pair of socks with the crossbones and skulls on them and i knew with these posters of all these beautiful men around me a mirror i tell less attractive people to tell themselves four good things about themselves a mirror in the shape of a bike tire to exercise inner demons but the planes flying over head understand wether or not we march for the socks of meaning or the posters of the slide of beautifull people and mirrors of vanity and selfish needs