Mouse

A mouse stops mid colour,  green.  Runs to the top of the roof and fly's off. While you carry sandbags and paint. Into gluggy water, malaria begins to swirl and you bite your way through the thickness. Students, texts, dreamers, poets, teachers, singers, we know nothing. To embrace the chaos of our own reality, a form always finds a way to remind us we are a mirror, a fractal of becoming. Now the empty chair plays tricks, checking the inner net over and over for a thread that will give you a thumbs up. Paranoid and parched the incurable epidemics, once lived now past on. Infecting us with cross's and zeros, the tired phrases from those who jumped off. Then there were those who released themselves of the straight clock. Brave giants ready to face the dreamless dream. The drifting of eternity. How long is death before life? Melting thoughts and shapes fuzzel into a cake and bake themselves until we longer need the tie dye.