Wet boulders on the tops of hills and logic chopping chopping chopping
threaten to bury me with super-colossal gravity.
Day dreams of office jobs and ties tied tight around my windpipe,
researching endless pages of madness only to regurgitate in
brain-damaged facsimile threaten to crush crush crush me
with prodigious efficacy.
My easy yoke is tugging at me lightly
as if some five-inch sprite is pulling
a length of fishing line attached.
She whispers in my ear and I will follow.
I will by owing owe not.
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