after the voices came for the night, then again oh so rarely broken up delusional now-and-agains... after the voices the world was not the same because they'd been coffee-house real
"heaven" is the place this world could be if people weren't so busy trashing it to get to other imaginary worlds... or at least that's the only heaven there could ever REALLY be
a little ironic as it's his best book I'd guess. doesn't matter. don't want that vile ear-wig climbing through my mind in any form. how could so many people embrace all that?
looking three ways as I cross the first street, angles ahead for my eyes to meet, dogs that aren't friendly and dogs that are, dogs with their heads out the windows of cars
it tastes so good like capitalist nirvana, swishing it around like a pretty one-night stand, but it comes in a box on-demand without the long wait under a Bodhii tree the trouble is:
