Hey. — Hive

There, good.
I have gotten your attention,
either because you think I’ve got something to say,
or because you enjoy random skirmishes of poetical graffiti,
or because you clicked on some link on the internet
without really knowing what you were getting into.

It doesn’t matter.
You’re here now.

I pick up my pen to blow your mind,
but it turns into a hummingbird
and flies from my hand
and sits on my head
and makes fun of my stretch marks.

I go to my laptop to change your life forever,
but my fingers turn into earthworms
and they slither outside
and sing “Lee La Lay, Lee La Loo”
on the grass.

I have nothing to say about life,
for my mouth is made of life.
It sprouts holly and pine needles as I speak,
and the cheap Buddha figure that I bought at Aldi
laughs his goddamn balls off on my desk
like a douchebag.

So I guess I will spend what remaining time we have,
while I still hold your attention,
simply sitting with you
and looking out through your eyes
and wondering what this strange world is
and wondering where we’re all going
as we spin off into the future together
on this weird little ball
in a black, pregnant ocean.

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