Email Poem

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Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Thought Train Location As of October 27th,2013
Take 1

…don’t even try to believe or perceive or conceive any of this*
when the clouds come to veil the stars and the night puts you in an unsure but 
com/for/table artistic condition and the moths come smacking their bodies against the 
transparent glass defending the depths of fires twisting and swirling through a 
windstorm on the inside(it’s just a lamp, fellas)/?  But the room feels cold because it’s 
now raining in here and I’m wearing a desk across my shoulders while I stand naked 
trying to remember where I put my unsharpened two cent pencil so I can write COME IN 
across the paper moon that hangs upside down on the floor just low enough so you can 
still swim across the oceanic ceiling  and glide through the walls with painted skies and 
sculpted unconscious dreams/ I’d sit down but gravity won’t allow it and come to think of 
it I don’t know how to sit because the chair(cloud) is made of songs and words but 
there’s no format to form any conceivable meaning that I can relate with so I’ll just 
stand/ I pack some cigarettes and jump onto the blades of a liquid fan that blows whisky 
across my lips until they’re too cracked to speak about the problems of the moth who 
crawls  across my open eye and eats my face outside of the reflecting window*- 
suddenly I see myself twirl and fade away like smoke blowing away into non-existence! 
There’s an optical illusion in the room that has me doubting everything I stand for 
because I thought I saw God but it was just a picture pasted on a board and only 
defended by thin fragile glass that I could shatter with my mind if I wanted to(already 
did actually) but I see all these moths praying to it because they don’t think any better 
than that (they never even thought to)/ Now time is approaching “dawn” and the 
sunlight begins to seep into the room like a snake slithering towards its prey and it’ll 
strike me down swallow me alive and return me back to {put noun here} where 
perception and perspective are the only truth, and to even know that none of that’s true 
at all is to live with so many questions and I just can’t accept the answers that I’m given 
for those but I know I’m supposed to& I lost my train of thought so get off the tracks 
before I punch you in the face with my cigarette and watch as you frantically brush away 
the ash that burns into your skin like an ant (or moth) melting beneath a magnified 
glass- you caterpillar.* Flutter by butterfly, we all live to die / WHATTT?/ I said I hope I’m 
ready for anything because here comes everything out to bring me down for something 
they forgot to say and really I know nothing about no-thing so don’t ask me anything 
about something I said because I won’t tell you a thing about what you just 
read_WHHAAPPP!!* 

*(sips on his whisky and {put verb here} his cigarette)
{how creative can you get?}
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