Gustavo, Gauguin, and Chagall arrange an interview with a golden man. He claims mirrors are made from sand.

They asked to take me into space.
But my boots were too heavy.

They asked me to take your picture

then threw cake in my face.
And there’s a video on instagram with some four scores and twenty goats just standing sporadically throughout the arms of a tall Oak tree.

Idling next to it,

of course no one could see me.
But related to my spirit.
These words will take me.


From my body,

From my my bed.,

From the clown in my head. 

From the computer,
From the screen. 

From that old picture of Charlie Sheen. 

(Someone glued to the TV)

So obscenely.
From the goat tree. 

Somewhere free
From the selfie wastelands of kentucky buckley

Through poppy fields of yellow and green

Take me 
Out into space
What a sight, What a sound

what a sweet taste.

Were so far from the ground
But when im down.

Run away..

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