I like disaster

I like disaster, it brings out the worst,
the animal bones, makes soup with them.
I like to go gooey inside and consider
the slightest of ticks significant. Cause 
and effect, fancy I can travel back along it.

WHAT THE FUCK! Pausable causes, probably causes
each its effects. What causes this and that,
Imagine I could follow such lines through the ether, 
pinning them down like painting lines in my life, 
in acrylic.

I have on hour maybe to work, to follow signs,
slicing moment like tomatoes into sauce - Hallelujah! -
lost, the fantasy of memory becoming the onion,
smells like opinion, repelling real thought 
like Neem, by clever-upon-clever, Nature style.

I am so good at this, switching seeing around.
And sometimes wonder if nothing more than a talent
for making the best of things is all that is required.
For successful living, I mean, happiness. 
I like disaster, it makes you, for a while, unhappy.


Cor, 19-12-06