go ask Alice lazy as a caterpillar blowing smoke into the curtains I see a sky full of third eyes and "hope" is the thing that flies away and lays a white shit on my shoulder— while the patriots fight and die in Afghanistan I'm lying on a bed of dreams growing shoots and vines into the walls wondering what it's like to be a starving yogi,eating only a palmful of grain every day till you're all skin and bones and beautiful brilliant shining eyes that see the true reality— and while the bodies pile up to feed the madman's itch while they throw saints and Buddhas into the prison-industrial complex I say to the old bearded fuck with the stupid hat Fuck you, Uncle Sam you're an old whore going blind in the rich man's broken sunlight. idle hands I hear the seconds tick from my watch on the nightstand as I lie in bed doing nothing at all. doing nothing is what I do best. high school cheerleaders are good at bending over and I'm good at doing nothing. sometimes I talk to the faces on the walls. or I sit by the window and stare out at the parking lot. sometimes I go for a walk and give the finger to complete strangers. so if you see me wandering the streets lost and lonely be a good soul and offer me a goddam ride outta this place. cherry blossoms don't know what I'm doing here as the clouds swim through blue sky it's good to drift through life whether you're a cloud a whale or a Bodhisattva and you can ponder the meaning of nothingness till your eyes devour the Hiroshima sunrise it helps when there's nothing around but screaming insanity and angels falling from the sky on broken wings and times like these there's really nothing left to say but OM.