abstract anomalic melodramatic autobiographical insertions

Did you see the shoes on bells feet blowing through my window?
Have you known the difference between mozart’s red and best crescendo?
If you have then you know of my love for the mimosa tree blowing in black.
And of its embracing seminal thoughts that do nothing in my brain but stack.
When I fly through these waves of amber and fields of green I feel murderous intent.
And all the people holding foreclosures and stained, dripping red rock filled socks tell me to repent.
What is there to do when a skunk is hiding in your closet and all the bridge players have hounds?
You hope for a tidal wave to come wash away your grocery cart and hide all your ugliness in the ground.
Now is the time to break through reality’s ambiance and get to the dark, dark deep.
Rain clouds through bolts of stress through hazy green sheepskins in my sleep.
Marry your first love and you will know the terrors I speak of irreverently.
The end of all your favorite movies will fuck you ragged with no benevolency.
Now mr james knows these truths and wants you to take him to six flags.
If it were up to him you would be on the red planet and hunting stags.
But he is just as powerless as the rest of philistines and only wants to be visible.
So Take your left handed guns, throw them to the wind, and be happy you are imitable.
Forget these crazy notions as you probably already have and hope to.
And I will keep traveling down a road of air while avoiding the heartless guru.