Dilll

A day before the big premiere, less than 24 hours to show time. A quick trip to wal-mart and a weeks worth of anticipation are all that prepare me. I must say that I feel slightly under-rehearsed, but not in the least under-publicized. My big mouth has, by this time, reached the ears of anyone who cared to listen, and the pressure to deliver the goods that are a spectacular feat, is immense.        I lay flat on my back, legs crossed and hands folded upon my stomach. A slow Baroque-Period piece is playing on my stereo in an attempt to calm my increasingly intense nerves. I think heavily on why I must do what I am about to do; I am quite awa

The classroom I am currently sitting in looks quite like a normal classroom, except the floor is, for some reason I do not care to know, a cobalt-blue carpet rather than an earthy tiled pattern found so commonly. The optimistic posters of encouragement adorned across the off-white wall instead whisper to me with a pessimistic prose of perpetual imprisonment. The features of the room suggest that the entire building could double as an accounting office. My new teacher seems nice enough; a short black woman with an accent that clearly states that she is not from North Carolina. She is to teach me Chemistry, a class that I would still be taking

A moth dangled 'round a streetlight's brilliance; a gilded golden glow emitted until the return of greater forces, forces with intent to conquer with guns a Blazin' and Hell be Razin'. Sun dried seeds of wines ferment; a red box full of desire and disatisfaction. Merry Marvel maidens reach out to touch, but my Shriveled hands have an awful way of letting go

A cold breathless fire Consumes my Frustrated Flesh. Leaving me a callous cloud of consiousness, Condemned to eternal circumnavigation. Seven inches of Cesarion Precipitate Form a standing pool of liquid love. Safe to drink from freshly made, But destined for pollution.

Dead Pool, shimmering and shallow. Carcus Fish and weeping weeds lie Beneath; A Facade of Felicity to attract eager anglers. Ten pound test does not snap, But rather reeels them rightly to the bottom. Forever bound to broken promises.

Brainless, Painless      Self centered celebrity             Wannabes.      Bats; Ensnared by thier     Cronic lack of Vision,and      Guided by faulty Radar. Mango madness and sucre sadness,       Smell of arid artificial                Arsenic.           The Real World             Is not made          Of delicious fruit.

I thirst for Slient Slumber, but my Straight Laced, Sapphire, Cackle of a Cot Does not satisfy. Curly Amber Wavy Silk, and a Pearly Molten Marble Matress May yet Satisfy.

He who holds your Love of Loves, With eyes of fies, and words of Ocean Blue. And I with Indards of Tempered Steel, with your Scent at heart and a Primeval Passion.

Pestered by a flies fly-by, Tempting me to have a have-at-it. Too slow it seems, I seem to grasp, Its flimsy wings flap far too fast.

Driving fast toward home at last. Im nearly lulled to sleep By hum-drum bumps, And doppler engines. I see the broken Bella Luna Light, Browned and softened By Earths' thin windsheild; Pedal to the chorus metal. I pursue its precious power To extend its reach across the Globe With Honolulu Hands, And Porcelin Rings. I envy its inverted graceful guile To weave symphonies of chivalry, That lull your sultry somber soul To Sleep.

I giggle frivilously, contagiously, even scornfully whilst my lumberjack hacks away at my trunk. It would do him well to know a keen fact: that (her) love would stand the tests of time, and has there in petrified my bark.