A Diary Of Sorts

All is instant
Delayed comes the light

That is the secret
But it's not secret

Time is where
And time again

I sometimes mumble
And loose my path

Consider this mumbling a sort of diary
A diary of bloom and demise
Obverse and reverse
Inherent contradictions

Some believe I am insane
But I'm with Burroughs
And his hallucinative glimpses of reality

I often say a lot of things
And that can be quite a problem
On most occasions I remain silent
That's even worse

It is what it is
And it might not really matter
It does though
Shivers my spine
Grows flowers within

I am often trapped
Within illusions fed by memoirs of grandeur
I feel I shouldn't care
Not really give a shit

But my world is your seashell
And it glitters
Lavish
Adamant
Gloomy

Not indifferent
Just in love

Shhh...
Listen
You can see them now...

There

A concord of mottled birds
They chatter nested under my dome

Envy, power, greed
Envy, power, greed
Envy, power, greed

It can't be
It can't be

They should make a song out of that
A little happy tune
For kids
To cleverly repeat on the street
As they hunt each other down
For a piece of over-nourished flesh