In and out of consciousness,
the plant in my eye waxes and wanes.
The full moon enveloped in a Lunar eclipse,
blood spills upon the sky.
Nobody knows why my mind thinks
or makes those weird connections.
Sometimes I know it is something of substance
othertimes its just the chickens of Marty McFly
dancing in my head with the sugarplum fairies.
But now the fairies are dead,
left only to my memory.
Love you, mom.
And the chickens video is messed-up.
I really ought to buy the DVD.
I wish I had a biscuit right now..
with some honey.
I don't normally eat breakfast though.
I wonder what the next recording medium will be.
Do you think we'll go straight to digital on memory cards?
Damn macrovision. I hate that shit.
I need a good joke.
Haven't heard any in a while,
not that I hadn't heard before anyway.
This accursedly good memory means
I don't hear many new ones
since I used to get mails from goatboy.
On the other hand it is quite useful
when I want to envision something,
play it over it and over.
Like how I was with you,
in your arms, loving, and
behind you, pounding.
Sometimes I wonder,
why does it always boil down to sex,
but then I think
when its as great as it is with you,
why not.
Its fucking fantastic.
Best I've ever known.
Better than my dreams.
And back I wind up at...
that plant in my eye...
my mind's eye...
and daydreaming.
Funny how things come full circle.
I told you it was random.
So shut up.
Its mine.