Ranting Riling

Ranting–Riling
A game of musical chairs (in prose)

I found an open page–I sought to write on it–I watched a big wave swirling in the ocean–a frothy surge came to collect it —back to the biblical going up seventh day angels–spying seven seraphim–searing soaring softly–
I run quickly to find the texts she left me—one solitary bellwether–
the man from the afterworld empyrean fairy sky hunting–astral astray ashtray only pray that he's a hot smoker–galaxy hunter–came looking for you
I bought some vegetables–made soup and ate it–I drank a bottle of wine–next day I felt it–broke a fingernail tying a knot –ruined it and fell off
riding the waves of memory–takes me back to you and I–will you ever stop thinking about me–do your thoughts resemble mine–all drilled in by a nasty brain surgeon–who stole my cortex–left me with this stuffed anthracite –head swelling you would think it was of pride–
no I wish I could say that– feel free to leave–swelling to the size of a watermelon
rubbing rumbling rolling–
who lurks behind the ruins–
lunging longing lifting the heavy hearted– breakage bottle–
sick as well as ill––drunk on the sea sand soaking sexed up and sunning–

I am coming for the next day–past tomorrow–no longer I be whole–days over the next week ok?