When you snap you might write something like this...

Friday, March 31, 2006

Two people stood in a field and the black moon set on the tips of grain. In that moment all
disappeared all lies were burned away and the truth stood stark and naked in the wheat, in my
mind, in my mind it stood. Blew through the last breath of Dylan Thomas rolling across the plain
crying break down the clean bones till the clean bones gone, there was a whisper a quiet whisper.
I cannot sleep and stare into the black eye of death and understand the significance of the moon
setting on a field of wheat. Maybe I was looking at two people in a field; maybe I was two people
in a field. I don't know any more than the things that filtered down through the television
screaming at my brain. I don't know what's right except the golden fingerprint of God spiraling r =
a*e^(k*@). I sit watching the black moon go down slow; so slow my body aches in the waiting.
Jesus died for me, Jesus died for you. And my eyes are burning I blink a long slow wink. When my
eyes shut I dream moments of time. I dream and dream until I wake. And the real seems fleeting
and time is a slippery slope and I crashed over the wheat and it doesn't go anywhere but up and
up.