I spend my days

And in the end after almost all of everything and everything else has been written down in lightning and thunderbolts of purple and blue feared by spiders eating potato chips and chopped onions pork chops meat meet and greet hi hello how do you do in the eye of the storm that rages after a strong bout of free will and goodwill hunting harmless sheep that promise to give you wool and milk making tasty flatbread in the middle of the night when you should only be asleep dreaming about you and me inside a radio dancing to the tunes of green flowerpots growing, growing, growing taller and taller by the day by the night goodbye good night good day bad thoughts bad news bad night the rich and the poor alike fear the reaper who reaps corn from fields of cold cuts of meat and fish and everything sweet and swish swooshing down to catch a small chicken of a large fish swimming in water running on land tiger and crocodile of hunting tears till all the crows turn black that was yesterday or the day before or the yesteryear and what about the last births in which you were a spinning top spinning like a restless planet with an orbital of a satellite eating tablets of window frames and curtains of sweet liquid tea brewed fresh this morning or was it yesterday the morning of which that is still fresh in your memory persisting like Dali’s clock melting losing shape dieting to be born and remembered again like Moses’s last wish