Eat Your Vegetables
If a cookie could tell the future, we’d all need longer belts.
Then gastric bypass surgery, so we could all be svelte.
A tummy tuck and facelift, away our fat would melt.
And then we’d eat more cookies, our future selves expelled.
There Are No Absolutes: A Digression of Observation
The nature of the master is much less important to me than the submission to it.
The nature of the matter is much less impotent, Tommy, than the submissive.
The mature matter is much less potent tomorrow than surmised.
The manure matters much like: potatoes, tomatoes, and geysers.
The man mates, likes potatoes, toes, dice.
Themed plates, prayers, tires.
Teleologies.
Die.
Making love to the Garden of Eden
I dream of whispers of clouds breaking the monotonous cycle of sunrises and sunsets in the sunlit fields.
The warm rays painted on my face slowly kill those dreams.
The foxes come out of their burrows in search of food after the hoar frost melts away in the solstice sun.
They don’t know its hunting season.
The juice of pomegranates and pears drips down my chin as I nourish my emaciated soul.
Saved from the fate of starvation.
Even if spring does come, who’s to say it will be paradise?
As long as the serpent lives nothing is perfect.
As long as the serpent lives the garden is empty.
As long as the serpent lives it’s always two nights till morning.
Too bad I’m a pacifist.
