The TV is off and it’s dark in here in his brain it is always evening. Where today is a person and today is what he is wearing, and everyday is made of Mr. Today and everything Mr. Today is wearing is everyday and today simultaneously; and today Mr. Today is wearing hot neon orange socks, and his feet are dancing. We laugh. His feet are dancing, but in his brain it is evening, and it is evening outside, and Mrs. Moon will appear soon, and we will be sleeping, and no one will know of any of these things or the reality of any of them as they are not even known to the people laughing who are not laughing now and were but is not existing, now, people laughing as one reality, and their awareness.
Today goes to sleep into tomorrow’s evening, but he doesn’t know he’s still wearing his bright neon socks as he goes to sleep and doesn’t think about morning; just as he doesn’t think about thinking, and what are thoughts he asks me, what are they, they have a mind of their own he tells me, they have a mind of their own, but what are they? And no one knows what thoughts are, I tell him, no one knows what they are, what is the reason for that he asks me, what is the reason for that they don’t know what thoughts are, that no one, that nobody knows what thoughts are, what is the reason for that, he asks me.
I do not know why no one knows what they are. Why, Evening, don’t you tell me? Mrs. Moon asks him, but he is sleeping, and he can’t hear her, because he told me, his thoughts go to sleep when he goes to sleep, so he can’t hear Mrs. Moon ask Evening, why, why Evening, don’t you tell me.
He doesn’t know what telling him anything is, as he thinks it is what he would tell himself anyway, but he doesn’t know that, because he can’t tell what he would think himself, and what another person would tell him, unless Mrs. Moon could tell the Evening and he could over hear their conversation, then he knows what he was thinking, but is too slow to say what he was thinking when he thinks what he is thinking as what it was Evening told Mrs. Moons something, then finally he knows what he was thinking, but doesn’t know it’s what he thought he was thinking, but wasn’t really what he was thinking, and this as his thinking is finally a fact as a question to ask somebody 20 minutes after all this happens; 20 minutes to finally ask his question. His questions run 20 minutes behind each other and he can’t stop asking and he can’t stop talking questions at nobody.
Mrs. Moon is throwing a party tonight, she
is full and wearing hot neon
orange socks and she is dancing
in the clouds who is wearing hot
neon grey pants and a nice dress shirt
and they are dancing
the clouds and Mrs. Moon sway
in light of their clothing, and Mr.
Sunshine is away traveling for work
helping people notice things about themselves
they ordinarily wouldn’t notice unless they were asked.
The TV is off and it’s dark upstairs, tonight. He is sleeping, right now, and he never knew the Evening answered: this; he never knew what he didn’t know about all the things Evening does for him, but it doesn’t matter because the sky still exists whether people attempt to destroy it or not.
The bees are disappearing the bees are disappearing the bees are disappearing.