I found this poem on a small pad in my pen box, written almost a year ago and forgotten.
Dancing partners ejaculate on the strings of the marionettes,
Patterns of jugular icicles mutate with the sun's oralation.
Announcements of kinds of jellyfish in my ears...
My nose growing to a tune of Handel.
Nonetheless, Orion is bright and bubblegum stretches Saturn's immensity into my room,
And around the dishes.