Let his pineapple go. Bring back the bananas and show them maple is better. What is it that you said? A random insecurity is what I heard. Some sense lost in the middle of the street. A rabbit climbing back out of the hole. No shadow for this ground hogs days. It is raining fish and the man next to me just exploded. Now I have ketchup on my shoe. Its red but I am pretty sure it is made from melted cd cases. The ones with lost dreams spilt all over the floor and shinny songs with see through people. Rubber people. The kind that jump of of bridges just to see how high they will bounce. But it does not stop there. In their crazy bouncing the city falls apart and children are left to sleep on beds made with tears and bits of torn clothing. Their mothers give oxygen to the corporations so the sons and daughters can feast on stale thoughts and bits of over used buttons. Something random. Or is it.
Sometimes my head explodes. And sometimes there is a journal to catch all the pieces.
-roguemind