Yesterday was a pleasure, though the whole day I was running on zero hours of sleep. It also happened to be my school's (York University) 50th birthday, and in two separate locations student council members (over 90% of which were Islamic) were handing out cake to anyone who wanted. I of course wanted both sets. To my surprise, each little community handed out a little something extra in addition to the cake- and I went at two different intervals.
At the first, I received waffles and a delicious strawberry jelly injected with sugar, hyped with cocaine. It tasted great with the cake, and with a smoke to settle, and declare "Mmm!" as my master I ubiquitously exposed myself once again by appearing on the walk, in a class. I managed to eagle over to the other location and hawk another slice. I was so full though, and had so much energy from the previously allotted cake that I skipped it, yet noticed how their second item was a loot bag, and ducked through some crowds in order to vulture the prize. I did this seemingly missless and efficiently, and it was glorious. The bag was filled with a suspiciously square pen, toblerones, and mischeviously red tissue paper. Inside the tissue paper there were post-it notes. Laame. There could have at least been a kinder-egg; something with fun-ness attributed to it.
Anyways, that kind of made my day interesting.
Hoping for Snake Eyes
And so,
Disassociation begins;
The ribbon cut,
The scissors closed.
A disassociation from
A mortal soul;
A moral dilemma;
Find muse in it.
Do not
Lose the self in it.
Do not
Find the self in it.
Wander.
Channel your energy.
Propose.
Connect your flaws
Onto a strand
Of ribbon
Open the scissors
Open your options.
Cut the page from
His master.
Cut the man from
His lover.
Slice and dice.
Slice and dice.
Detatch the mind,
Hope for snake eyes.
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