A tongue like Excalibur melts into mythically steeled words
and ends up tearing hearts with all its magical properties.
Then the universe collapses into a final ending with nothing
left but the, “no thing.” It continues to breath and all words
move forward as zombied penguins with many semicolons standing
whimsically awaiting the next coherent thought.

And the deep dreamer asks, “So let me get this straight Jack”
to the Police Doctor on hand. “You want me to take my pencil
and right every wrong for those patients in the mechanical
ward of broken minds?” Just then a portal opens at the foot
of the deep dreamer’s mouth and the little blue clothed
munchkins drag him out of the ward and into a bread truck
and say, “You’re coming with us to settle a bet.”

The bread smells a wonderful Jesus-like body but there’s
no blood-wine to go with the screams.

:: 03-10-2018 ::