When I speculate upon some dribbles,
the mind revolves around a
superimposed gratoitous gardener.
Amongst the fake fields,
glass trees and shrubs freeze.
Unlike ice, the glass has powers to observe.
Humans in their wicked ways…
gallivanting the gluten free guillotines
inspiring riots and killing their offspring.
Cutting the population in half
because their wishes of a strong plague
never came to pass.
History never tells the truth
and when the books have been scorched
and I have kissed your lips,
you will remember the one and only Alamo.
I will escort you there on a limo.
The only safe haven left steadily standing…
and such as life makes lemons,
we thus kindly produce lemonade
excluding the high fructose corn syrup
which in turn would add
to lethargic mannerisms.