Tweaked Logic

Stickler for the Stickman,

strike in sevens times three,

taking toking taffies in tea parties...

pastry for your pride.

Slanting the ante in aftermath,

the hum of the refridgerator refracts reason,

teetering on trifling treason,

meaty in discussions of deciduous psychosis.

Please plant my pain in your exquisite eyes.

My axis of internal organs accepts dull delusion,

as it comes

in the jumps of tweaked logic...

abrasive to the strings of subjective perspective;

And here I object!

With expectations that there are no repercussions.

[18:10|12.12.011] ©c.thomas.carter