Covid strikes: A poem on my google drive
Even the entertainment cant control or seem to rest my restless mind as I seem to be practicing, and getting good at, I may add, flabble anxomatic inner trembling that stir my large abdomen and fight for air. Marlboro after marlboro the issue of this cockamamia, contemporary and gobble hunkard covid virus quarantine has split my consciousness from real to surreal. My goatee and mustache grows normally like a newly born bloodhound pup but to me it seems like the mustache is dragging on the floor and my goatee is wobbling around my belly button trying to tickle me hairy stomach. When I jump to the mirror it is short as that bloodhound pup. “Surreal thy self declares, I am man of universe!” Salvatore Dali must be painting in my dreams again at night and brings it to the forefront of my reality during the day!