I pick my nose on a beautiful noon.
autumn has fallen,
but I am the only one
who heard its quiet smell crash.
'tis a good day for singing a song
or writing a stupid poem about meeting trees.
I buy a box of chicken and eat it
on the way home.
I feel like I just got my eyes back.
the salty ocean can't wait to get cold,
as the barnside of New York City turns purple;
the shadows of which are oval,
and the hot headaches are gone.
I crack my neck,
like a machine gun,
as the sun says farewell for now
I want to talk about it all,
today and you,
and never take a breath.