Morning comes fast anew with no sun and stone hearted chilly winds,
and terrible sounds one can hear of a machine meant to induce fear
turn my gears and start to tear, growing up a need to smash,
and the shower filled with mice might be kinky and kind of nice,
the dark pea soup wrongfully called coffee mingles with a slice of bread,
I mirror-met the guy my girl called Ted, very much a bear looking for it’s cave,
and I’ll turn thirty in two weeks and all I need is to break bricks
and hopefully I’ll blow candle that my life is up to handle…

I went viral days ago so tonight it is turning hot like the furs in Camelot
and the tree cut in half hails the ghost of an Irish teller passing-by,
“Will you bring me cotton candy?” asked the lost boy
“Will you paint my leafs in gold?” asked the same girl,
running with a naked feet, the cement doesn’t change the face
and steps I take towards the fountain are never to remember
only wind and rain and holes once upon a November…