Pills of bliss and tenderness, I swallow them and wait for the Reaper, arriving on his Grim Unicorn of Red. Galloping in the silent sound of the hurricane. Stroking the ribcage and soft throat of Mr. Alligator. Systems of strange markings appear on the blue horizon of yesterday. Take charge of your past and you will change the present. Correct ancient wizards who have become insane on the drunkenness of sacrificial virgins. Double check your dosage. They will attempt to destroy all your sacred dreams.
© Timothy Grassan