A brain named Goo

Twenty four hours is excruciating when sanding down the hours.
Lacquering the minutes.
Repeat seven hundred and fifty times to get that right shade of fake wood.
...And you're in the fucking dark.

Forty two hours is nothing when posed with the threat of money and power.
Using your magnifying glass to spy on the hidden riches, you have a Adolf Hitler stink about you.
And coin by coin by coin by coin, you sift like flour. Melodically.

I look up briefly as if to say, "Ha. Joke's on me, foul mooded Deity." I am secretly impressed by his sarcastic silence.

A cloud draws a line in the sky and I alone stand on the Right.
...While those two are busy trying to snort it...

AK©