Cold tea, typewriter clack,
Stumbles of an Insomniac.
Words, words, words words words
Words are speech is nothing but mendacity,
Chipped toe nail polish fell in a sidewalk crack
(don’t step There, it’ll break your mamma’s back)
smoking or non-smoking section?

Uh, glass of water and mild salsa?
Enchilada or fajita? Shredded beef or beans?
And Chet Baker’s melodies drift like dreams
And please work, I’m begging.

8 million people, I only see you,
7 million 999 thousand and 999 people you see,

all but me.


Hyberbole? Maybe, but I disagree.

Conjugation of ‘Tratar’ in the preterit.

Trate

Trataste

Trato

Tratamos

Trataron

(I tried, you familiar tried, he/she/it tried, we tried, you plural tried.)

First person familiar forgot…forgot to smile

Actually, WE don’t feel much like smiling


Maybe tomorrow.
Find the psoriasis cure now.
Guess what?? Aids came from monkey brains, thus brains are bad.

Ha, let’s all stop using our brains.
1 lobotomy for me and a root beer for him, ‘kay thanks!
And wipe that smirk off your face, [am I blabbering?]

I’m trying to make sense of this,
Of jargon and bitten nails and frayed knots, and

Of Plato’s reality.

Of something I know I’ll never know.