Mathematical twins laying in the same bed at opposite ends of the spectrum
I can't stand the way that his wife talks and the things that she talks about.
Even though I have love for her, I wish that she wouldn't use her mouth to make words
Whistles, clicks and beeps would be much more pleasant and tolerable to my relative view
Something about my subjectivity has been altered
When my ears start to ring I think that every one should know
But girls still make me entirely nervous
I should either ignore them or be obscene
Some one should get the point
Unless I am too abstract or too direct to a point that turns their interest
Humming and whistling is a better way to understand
If birds can do it, so can I
Plus I can provide a righteous hook or line when it is time
Spontaneous numerical recognitions through synchronistic patterning
Vibrational formulations of filtering
There are basic ideas that everyone knows
But they are often assumed as implied and not kept at the surface,
Where they belong as a primal tenant
If you have socks on,
How do you know ?
I guess I'll be your mirror
I'll give you what you give me after I give it to you
Your hand print is my right hand reaching toward and
Your left hand pushing out
Blood from the fingers is not poison
The codes for leaves are stored inside of the trees during the winter
It could be made to be a small scale meme,
Or a subtle transmission in the light of a conglomerate world
My self on the line once is enough,
Call it a lifetime
Thoughts about levels of health and wealth mutating and bending,
Signals of signs waning and gaining placement in random shots of order
My daughters are unborn and still dreaming me while I dream their death away,
My sun is a black hole that spurts at egg penetration on parallel lines
My legs are filled with hamburgers and eggs
My shoulders are fluttering with disease and rock formation
Soft blankets and comfortable clothes ravage my body with competition
About existing
Emptiness about entanglement reaches into my metal box of bones
And disappears into a transformation of itself into another form
Expectation looms like an open glove waiting for my hand,
Friends and family give me something to ignore
My tables are hungry for service and grace,
While my chairs are solitary and full of faces
Sitting down to a spinning jaw while drifting to electrical perturbance .
