Mmm…

Would you believe this? I guess you could say I’m doing pretty well, if my biggest problem is deciding which color of robe to wear to my private backporch smoke session.

But oh no, the Thunderbird chick permanently perched on my shoulder has decided to remind me

That there is a chemical concoction in the refrigerator, a sugary miracle whose existence threatens to end this inner peace

I’ve decided to revel in and all around,

Floating my body around the brackish universe of a marine biological obsession, like I’m but one of many tiny chunks of Aloe Vera plant, surely organic but also sorely misplaced in this unnatural state…

Slaaammming down the plastic bottle, a passive thought throttles your Papa’s fuzzy spinal cord telephone line,

Forcing a slick little neurotransmitter into overtime, giving me a bright idea…

Hmm that’s right, he’s stressed out. He’s about to speak his mind. You see, this is no ordinary synapse…

This is the Midnight Conductor. If you’ve never lost your mind, it is unlikely that he’ll visit you, but if you have…

Let me tell you, he’ll take care of everything. You ever start laughing uncontrollably in the middle of the night?

Ever have wild fantasies of putting chili powder in your roommate’s showerhead?

Ever have a train of thought that starts off simple enough, even pure and altruistic in concept, ending up somewhere you never expected it to go? Somewhere a little scary?

The Midnight Conductor wears multiple robes per evening.

Joseph’s Technicolor Dreamcoat type trips.

The Midnight Conductor takes showers by candlelight, and enthralls all who hear his ravings

You will lose your train of thought to him, you will lose your damn mind

But what you gain in the exchange, is something a cool head… Can never find.

A pattern. Relief is just a pattern. Familiarity. Hmm.