You start to inadvertently create shadow puppets while opening string cheese,

standing in the light of the moon and the light of the refrigerator,

                                   no shoes on and smiling in the dark.

                                  with a knife in one hand and cheese in the other,

(there’s another story here entirely) 

                                                                            and no one is watching your puppet show,

and no one is watching your commas, either.

Do with them what you please.

                        In your cold  kitchen,

in the middle of the night, with not much to look at,

but plenty to drink.

Its like a desert.

It is a desert.

                      and still  your feet are colder then they have ever been,

          You’ll be haunted by the comments you left on YouTube,

and you’ll be haunted by your footprints you left behind,

and the breadcrumbs and the machines  with no life left in them, you’ll be haunted by all of it.

                 No one is here to sweep up the dirt and the guts and nuts and bolts  you left behind.

When you staggered out into the universe, knife in hand

out that front door, and you settled right into the sunlight, like you knew it all along.

Like you knew where the knife came from, and why,,,,,

               Don’t focus on the knife,

settle into the spotlight, settle into me.

Brace yourself yourself with a capital B,

Because its going to hit you all at once,

the Bullseye on your chest isn’t just going to wash off,

so you can stop scruBBing now.

                      It isn’t quite a tattoo,

                                              But you are gonna be stuck with it for the rest of forever.

Lift up your head and your spirits if that’s whats carrying you,

if it’s the  Balloons carrying you, then hold on tight,

but know they travel at the same rate that the spirits do.

And if that’s whats keeping you afloat,  then so Be it.

 Waiting to be overcome like that, By air or By Beast or By Burden,

plow your fields and string up some more Balloons,

                                     and Be ready for that inevitable flight.

Make sure the sandBags are full too,

for the inevitable  descent, too                                                ,hell,

You can just  steal the sand  straight  from the hourglasses.

 turn  the volume all the way up so you cant here the sirens Blaring anymore  and the

Buzzing insects  sound like

                                                                                                      ,well,  

                                                         Buzzing insects, still,

and the static  on the TV will Be so quiet now it will Become just a color.

But you’ll not be able to drown out the stampede  of  incoming air,

A wash of                 gray.

A rush of                   gray.

And wait for the sunlight to knock you off your feet,

                                   Blow your head clean off your shoulders,

leaving what is left  waiting to Be overcome,,,,