Pilachi_Sketch [ BLOG ]

Obsessed, abscess recesses proliferate my wanton demise. And if perchance the daylight breaks, too quickly shall descend the night; for in this sleep-by-day routine I wake to find black skies, perforated only by sounds of little children’s cries. The occasional yelp from a stray mongrel dog or a twinkling little star, awaken in my dormant dreams of telescopic fantasies.

I tell myself, these worlds are real, and it is for me to reveal, each passing cue… a visual clue as to what is going on with me. Hello. Hey-Low.

She said that to me a year from birth; an uttering big and small, like all things bright and beautiful. The lord God made them all.

So now I wait, for morning to start; and listen for the crows; or will it be the butterflies or chirping birds or prostitutes; only God she knows.

I listen for the light to shine between the lightly drawn curtains. “Hello. Can you see me?” I did not really say that out loud, so you cant really tell for certain, whether there would really be an actual answer from another real live person.

Guess what? I forgot; not that it would really matter; for this my friends is passing time and a pound of idle chatter.

Poetry disguised as prose and and clearly accentuated nasal passages, attached firmly to my nose. Breathe in Breathe out… oh wait… I lost count… damn-it, start again.

Sorry; it is still too early for the rooster to shag the hen.

There she is; the cock doeth crow; the ritual begins again.