sanama

how the winter’s five-year plan has been unfolded and now it’s

I want to say a soft carrot stick

I want to finish my soft and elastic carrot stick it feels like an alien in my mouth

the consistency makes me gag a little and my eyes become teary

my face is out of its environment 

I need a lifetime green

I need to be able to pass through and through

if the neck is an extension towards the sun, snack carrots are a scam which should be

hidden from the daylight

they must be cursed if they grow like that

I’m just plagiarising from wrinkly papers I found

thinking about the sentence:

”The funeral director has done everything in his power to make the concept of death a real pleasure for (sic) every body concerned –– all to score a victory over death.” and if it really was like that

last summer I developed a habit of revealing my thoughts is it not reasonable to ask for

something that would last a lifetime 

there’s no spare time to be bargaining around

factory settings are always created from a specific point of view

the factory is no objective reality

and the factories I worked in have vanished

the snack carrots are now produced through a fully automated process

conveyer belts have no sense of taste

they’ll let anything orange, soft, smelly, dirty, moldy pass through 

as long as it has a stick form

too much daydreaming has left me blue

I want to finish my carrot stick