I’m making it up as we go on. I’m taking a bath as we fall on trying my best.Scratch the surface with the surfer’s teeth. I’ve been eating the clouds, clouds of dust. Underneath the rings of holy water and Holiness. The triumph over the never-ending battle between the office psychos and Psychopaths. We come across like fools in the oceans of time but we are nothing more than heroes in black and white photos. Stuck in still life. We still feel life we regard our lives as though it’s the only chance we can get at this moment of greatness. We have her through stars of M’s and ends of stars and crying and trying to kill all hopelessness. The Crayola in my paper sleeve is misuniformed. It haunts us all to realize that the Capricorns in the cellar are friends of wizards. It hurts us to realize that we were born on fragments of the rainbow. Saying “Hi,” to friend and coveralls. You pretend while we make believe that soaring prices are common in our world. I have fallen over and onto the ground. This is not the sobering way that I hoped to become one with the maggots.