Consider, Before I Go...
June 13 2002
I just thought that occurred that if a mouse lived in the pie in my kitchen, that it might owe me seven dollars for rent, but not having as many teeth in its mouth as a cat, which is fewer than me, I might have to close my eyes, and count backwards from the colour blue, and down to orange if that is what the sky deems to be a worthy deed of stacked sandwich status. The swirling down, and chipped, jipped paint, and gnaw marks of a broken lease, broken by a lack of money which not due to lack of teeth, but for a taste of lemon-aide with a spoon of salt in it.
Pink electric, and stuck stick tape on the underside of tiny little boots that cost a fraction, just a touch of seven, which I might refer to as less than but more than a nickel, and spelled backwards, it yields something along the lines of CO32 + H7O and 6ChO2. Chemicals are beyond me, and so far down, that the cloud cover tops the trees and even the shrubs there, outside of that aluminum sort of rim that keeps the inside an inside and the outside an outside. No more two story cakes, or three story cakes, or four story cakes, not worth anything less than seven, and so seven shall be the number of the pie. Do not forget this, and when I sleep, moments from now, force and forcing may be at work. Brace yourself, and curl up tight. Resist the winds, and when I awake in a new sunlit day, this will either be a dream, or a new universality. Goodnight.