a drop of honey rain
fell on my brain.
now my thoughts are sticky
and i can't complain.
i love
being,
seeing,
and thought of
very stupid;
so why complaining
if the rain is honey,
or if the honey is not sweet at all?

the president is a teacup
filled with old,
hot nails.
every thing is hot.
a mild fever may spark fire.
he sings the national anthem
using only whale tails.
a cup full of honey must be hot.
no tea please.
thank you.
lol.

my shadow is a puddle
of melted leather,
clocks.
it's hiding from the pumpkins
and their orange,
ticking talks.
i do not tiktok,
i am not that crazy,
but maybe a jay-z without a clock.
a drop of honey rain
fell on the street.
now our shoes and sandals are glued here
to this stupid,
sweet concrete.

we can't go to work.
we can't go to bed.
we just stand here smiling
with honey on our head.