by cannabisara

Vapor. Vapor. Smoke.
On lackadaisical letters.
Silly strings of words.
Feathers of birds
Above you whom steadily approach sadly.
Laughing madly,
You need three hands to take a stand
Relinquishing only to sit.
Shit on yourself.
Because you want to die but remain alive.
Yet you sleep.
Creep into yourself and out
With the icy ignorance of what you are about.
You savor this stout behavior.
Grin or try to begin.
Then sinful bad shit.
Play one over the bit.
Bite audaciously into the apple.
Snap back into your infectious reality.
Invent a personality.
You can choke
But you can’t choke on yourself.
That’s a fallacy.