Saturn
I can turn thoughts into Saturn’s rings.
As the falling wasteland sings.
Meditation empties out, covered in slime.
Combines senses like a squeeze of lime.
I have thoughts, rugged and swishing.
I don’t know for what I could be fishing.
Endless turning like my bedroom shifts.
Open my eyes, cracking rifts.
Medication wears on me like the head of a snowman falling off.
Wipe the existence with a cloth.
I can make Earth have rings like Saturn.
Then crush them in my head into this urn.
I have memories like coal in stockings.
Snow hisses and sometimes sings.
As the falling wasteland tears apart.
I feel steam escape my heart.
I can turn my thoughts around.
Three dimensional like the curse of the ground.
The Earth crackling like medication, medication…
Reminds me of my last meditation.
Things like Saturn, Venus, and Mars.
Do nothing and neither do passing cars.
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