Hoover (is this a god) Dam

Sometimes it’s so much easier… to see all the things I want to hate. I want to yell at walls and converse with my carpet. The pillow and I are exploring other options…. But in the shower, sometimes I swear – I caught a glimpse of god. In between the soap scum, and that knot I can’t tug enough.

Then I take a deep breath and remember – I can’t be anyone but me. What if everything my carpet hates is the spot I was supposed to show? Or did the pillow’s cover the truth inside dusty eyes? Not out, I said, but in, deep down. The pieces I thought I scrubbed away. My rags been worn to threads and ash. The fires set in yesterday. Now shuffling through the memories. Certain there’s a color other than gray.

And as I keep this shuffling, I swear burnt almonds must be everywhere. I brought a towel since a blanket could get caught in those same fires of yesterday. It’s such a shame to know the dolphins went away.

But then I took another breath. The center felt just so. If I keep pushing furniture, my meal will never not be right. Or am I wrong? My porridge hot and cold. The spoon wasn’t even there. No wonder I’m always hungry. My throat or was it the hose was clogged with all those O’s. Mainly the one that’s followed with r, because it seems like R’s a curse. Take it out, it’s a cuss, and that’s funner, anyway

It’s not a yell if it isn’t hell or is it the other way? For safety, I best write. I haven’t had time to mess cause I’ve been cleaning it all away. I thought I was searching for that damn sponge I set down just a second ago but here I forgot I was already done.

Maybe it’s better that my house is in disarray. Is home where the heart is, or did the heart make the home? Maybe the messier I get around here, the more it means I lived. It seems like cleaning and messing are the same around this place. Maybe if we swapped some R’s and L’s when deciding how to pay, maybe the home inside the heart would be the same as a messy house or a clean dumpster. It’s all relative, anyway.

Is this the world where gods and devils dance? Is my brain inside or out? Everything I love about me is something I cannot have without… You. But if you are me and I am you, what is this devil supposed to do?

Hoover dammed this damn stream

Who verde carpet dew

Dirty devils suck

But that’s what they’re supposed to do

Inspired by all things Maynard James Keenan, and the ultimate meaning of the universe, as described by a man on acid, but not the one Bill Hicks said. Happy Tittie Sprinkles day y’all!!!!