Another paranoid piece of messed-up fiction that I came up with. Messed up because it's half untrue. And don't even ask me about the other half, okay?
not another word that fails
to get my mind a mind divide;
like dirt upon a standard spade
that digs out everything I find
in my hand this diamond held,
sparkling in the night that shines
the air around, of shoeshine self,
in a winter that it left behind
so wind it up, I need the hour
of water cans in garden ride;
you know I’d use it, and use it good,
if you could get back to my life
'Little Rhymes'? Oh, I don't care where this goes. I just wanted it outside my head so I could see it new; see you new and find something out of that. Let me not state the obvious (unless you'd guess it anyway).
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