Dice

A secret so polite it's rude could land on you in groovy dots and acoustic mirrors and not stop there, winner, winning numbers bursting with murmur like the clumsy broken heart of a video on its squeaky fast forward on the grid of infinite extension-- You must know/ something about me/ Assume I had a nice beautiful background, mother and father and all that shit, whole lotta bread/ Know how to be right and wrong at the same time like a nice beautiful background mother and father whole lotta bread and water is all that's left of god is risk and water/ and how I don't worry anymore about if you had a nice beautiful background, mother and father and all that shit, whole lotta dread wells up in me when I hear my people praying in a ritual I don't understand. For all I know they're requesting their own troubles. Resist the simile. It's too easy to be like them and lost In my heart. I'm sure of it. That I can't give this up a note but I did call it closer and closer to all that's left of god. I love the good uncomfortable days when life is simple and real