at the level of macro every thing degrades

stopped by your place tonite, kittens
running around, their mom, barely grown herself
looking for a pat on the head, eyes as circular
as the full moon past,aquaesque
balloons full of water from a lake we swam in once

we have to keep in touch, like a song excavating itself
from a cover too close the original, a plaster
of paris recompense for ideal only half hopeful, a disney
sewer rattish cast. ya know what i mean? doubt it
but i'm glad you're having a good time growin up. me, i'm
sorry i'm so old to do this now. heh. but
whatevers. so much to learn, so little time.
blossoming right before the bush falls to dust.
such is the fate of the procrastinator. suddenly
the battery runs out, the coupon's expired, the show's
sold out baby, there's only the lesser known &
preachified scrapings to slip your pink tongue into.
what the hell do i mean? post existentialism
as a means of survival i guess. cynicism recycled
into a positive spin on greed. i dunno. but i loved
a lot, if too little. i got mines you get yours
is the buzzword of the day. anyway, we , you and i
were talking about sync w ith sex.sync out you said
interlaced connections and fractals
building from factoids believed in.
the choices out there!
the redheads and the thirty somethings
the possibilities to explore now you got your head
out of my tits. it's a good thing. i like
being your friend. we would have never worked out.
lol.