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I want to be that.
Can't ever - shine spats.
Turn we into this.
That is my lifes bliss.
My mind is just that.
Again like shoes with spats.
Alter - mold - bend - twist.
Images are in the mist.
Plastc body, can't move fast.
Me simple - in the past.
Must become that IMAGE.
Out - over - a new rage.
Alter - glue - pieces - free.
Small Doctors - only big fees.
Now I am this way.
The mirror of yesterday.
I don't know of you.
40 dozen and not a few.
Now we all look alike.
IMAGE - MOLD - CLONE PEOPLE - STRIKE.
A world full of people now.
ROUND WORLD FULL - HERD OF COWS.
from my poem book - DREAMS 3
