the space leap

Saviour drunk off lagoon juice wondering why the wind blows the snow into his (and only his) backyard, bouncing off the corner rock garden into the piles of tornado valley chessboards hocus pocus. The one man who controls the destiny of others sits above the clouds in a thought processing supercomputer ashing of the quantum leap of Gibraltar's loony toons escapades. We're climbing the mountain and when it happens you step into space and there's no harness to catch you and you're falling into oblivion wondering why you didn't pass writers craft in high school. First place medals for bedlam and all those fancy gibberish tones of blue and green and hues of gold and amber. When will it stop when the cows come home and they dish out soup to anyone who wants to eat and isn't starving himself (or herself) for that matter. I catch the fluke mid dressing ocelot web slinging ultra productive press room deadlines made in such a time when the work is already a century finished. You leave a 20 at the door for the cab ride home and we slept in separate beds because it was just too uncomfortable to do otherwise. How I yearn for a touch on the shoulder by a mother who needs a father the most. There's no politics today, only righteous bigots tallying the votes again. At least George Dubya was honest about his mistakes, you can't blame the bastard, he had no chance from the start. I don't know what else to say except this weather is the root of all evil, controlled by the 1%, who by this time, the weather of the birds ensures they fly to their yachts in sunny East/West tax havens.