Sherbet Sweet Slaughter: A Collection of Poems and Short Stories

Nonsensical Logic

Clear hazes baffle my primitively intelligent mind.
They come in small waves of millions.
Shaped as nothing at all,
but visible in my blindness.

The geometrically impossible impossibilities
outweigh the heavy nothingness of my incompetently perfect soul.

Bright alleys and sunsoaked oblivion fill this
obviously schizophrenic but perfectly sane mind.
I see the empty, filled space floating on the ground.
And I hear the colors of the hurricane with intent to build.

I may not make sense,
But I am just out of it enough to think in,
and outside, the box at the same time.

My hearing spans as far as the eye can touch,
and my sight runs the breadth of a decathlon in just under never.

Drug addled sanity.
A non-paradoxical oxymoron that describes
the loving hate you had for your best acquaintance who never existed.

Let's organize messes into neatly stacked piles of
sweet smelling garbage.

Why don't we ride our tires to a place in another non-physical dimension?
Or how about we run down trails of spikes,
and up hills of sub-zero coals?

Another suggestion:
how about we do a drug that addicts us the SECOND time?
Or smoke the weed that makes food absolutely disgusting?

All these things are nothing compared to a lack of existence.
But, to understand...
We must become what we are afraid not to be.
We must become futuristically primal.
A clear fog.
A hard sprinkle.
Nonsensically Logical.