Climb Back To That Branch

sometimes i can measure the distance
between planets using pareidolia
like some kind of galactic Sherlock
with a cock bigger than John Holmes
living a life measured in inches not
days listening to the blues to live
not exist because who cares what the
future brings anyway when the past
is the best of us wishing i could
climb back to that branch of the tree
but it’s on fire now and i’m too tired
but rainbows still tell me secrets from
time to time and i still see things in
the eyes of that child i once was cursing
drunk at a Zulu parade in New Orleans
watching the spiders and moths make love
down Pirates Alley under hobo blankets
smelling all the piss mixed with booze
and Cajun food and incense and the river
wind and heartbeats all intertwined as
one just like the planets and i when my
eyes decide to work right opening voids
so i can step inside roadtripping through
the universe to revitalize these old bones
and turn in my quarterly reports to the
alien wizard owls that have been following
me around since birth waiting for me to join
them and my mother on their ship behind
the dark side of the moon but i still
have work to do so i just keep on pushing
that envelope further and further forward
never straight until I am ready to ascend
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