Miracles exist,
So many that it’s shocking.
Surely we canÕt resist,
To sometimes go
Sherlocking.
This hairpin is a clue,
If this headstone is
a mystery
Whose tenant has been screwed
By high wind and history.

There is a snake
inside the office.
There is a weight inside
the airplane.
The scientist creates
Another strain.

The pin-up was pent-up,
Her patience was spent up,
On clothing and close-ups,
And 2 minute touch ups.
Blown by the airbrush,
Dolled up and drugged up,
By 5 minute fuck ups,
With hairbrush and blood lust.
But now that she’s safe,
And away from the scene,
She keeps getting voicemail,
On her message machine.
They sing,
“Call me when you want to
have it all again.”

Leave a teardrop
on the rooftop,
To evaporate at dawn.
Maybe itÕs an SOS for
who it falls upon.
I know that it’s a long shot,
But itÕs one IÕm counting on.

Dreaming Dimwits
take a stand,
On this night we must
demand,
Let the microscope be
Damned,
By the hammers in our hands.

Calmly we’re dissolving
On the exit frame.

These are unusual fissions.