pass the peanuts, babeeee

not botched
just high on fire -

like the half-conscious state
& curling thicket of your lastest
goodbye.

love you squirrel
but i can't let my heart fly.
Later -

soup & sprightly spooling

the slowest couple wake
sick but lively
to misplace perscriptions and other general
 generic
farting
 around:

don't drop your ashes in my hydroponic plant!

ok,
how about in this sea of dirty dishes?
i can't even be bothered to throw this ashtray at your head;
i'd rather delete junk mail!

why do you use that word,
hydroponic?

because i like the way it sounds.