Poem because of Paul Tomes' existence

[intendedhipster]

And I was never heard from again-

-Or was I?

Rising up through the breaths of madmen-

As a madman myself.

Floating (maybe) through transcendental (or angelic) music

Continuing to hiccup when I saw fizzy soda(pop)

Bubbles.
Rising.
Through.
My.
Intuition.

and my burnt finger/hair/etc.-
still rising towards the

Enigma and the
Madness and the
Possibilities.

Neuronets fire in orgasmic triplets
For memories-
For dreams-
And (indeed) for the reality

What is real?

Fizzy sodapop bubbles-
Nintendo bleepbloopbloops-
Jeff Buckley screaming inside the tin-can Milky Way

And I realize his echo.

And how I want to be stuck in a phone-booth(dotheystillexist?)

And how I want to talk to the operator.

Connect me!
(into unabashed seas of not-so-electric-things)

Help me find morning.

Beware the moon ye weary travellers
(which is an allusion to a beautiful song written by the man in the subject line of this entry)

And I still rise.
And I still rise.
And I still rise.