This is going to sound crazy,
But...

I think I saw an alien yesterday.

I was kissing my wife when all of a sudden she changed form in front of me.
She was looking like a grey, scaly Asian grandma with Kardasian lips and eyes as black as holes.
Not only are the aliens infiltrating our governments but they are infiltrating my love life as well.

The reptilian leaned in, speaking without words.
Like it was talking in my thoughts.
He reached out to me,
And we ascended into his flaming Dorito in the sky.

We went from 0 to 300,000 miles per hour in the split of a second.
I think I saw a military pilot as we were passing by.
He tried to catch us, but we escaped in the blink of an eye.

Angel?
Extra-terrestrial?
Visitor from the Zeta Reticuli?
Or perhaps something inter dimension?

He took me to meet his family,
They had a message for me.
They were the ones who gave rise to humanity.
They think our fear of death is kinda funny.

They were so welcoming,
All about peace, love and understanding.
They do not understand war,
They don’t understand us at all.

I woke up the next morning back in my bed.
I can’t remember what happened,
I think they put something in my head.
My great grandmother thinks I was abducted.

I’m!

Not!

Crazy!

But the media would have you believe I am.
They twist my words to make them sound insane.

It wasn’t a man in a rubber suit.
Please believe what I say.
You believe me don’t you?
It was a mother ******* Roswell Grey.

I’m!

Not!

Insane!

But since It was not on the tv.
It’s not welcome in your reality?

Go ahead and ridicule me,
Try and keep me quiet.
But I know what I saw,
And I will never deny it.

We’re not alone.
We share a home,
With another life form.
They’ve been here for a very long time.

Is there life out there?
I want to believe.
Beam me up, Scotty.
I want to leave.

Hey look it’s me.
On the tv!

I’m your burger,
And your drink,
On your coaster,
Then I go down your sink!

I clean your plates,
Wash your car,
And your floors,
And your very hairy *****!

All you have to do is click on me!

Say hello to the man,
On the other side of your phone.
He’s listening in,
On your conversation.

L-shaped couches,
And make up kits!
Brand new cars,
And television sets!

You don’t need this ****,
But you have to have it.

You’re a product.

Advertising on the plane,
On the car.
On the train,
It’s got you on the run!

On the floor,
During sport,
On a walk,
It’s got you on the run!

Everywhere you go,
All you see,
Is a product,
Begging for your money.

You’re not a product.
Turn off the tv.

It's dark inside,

the rooms ravaged and the floors frayed,

not a soul would step foot.



Step back onto the grass that's dried,

and you wonder where's the aid,

but there's nothing to input.



You walk back to resume your route,

a body breezes past,

they open the door with no doubt,

you look back, it's you.

Portraits lying on the old shelf,
Reminds me of a time
I used to do a good impression
Of myself
They say people never change,
It's rather quite strange
That there's a world beyond that door
While I was stuck sleeping on the floor,
Trying to diverge the bold arrow of time
Is in itself a crime?
Things seem unreal
Like a one-hand clappin'
Things take time to heal,
Just let it happen.

Vellichor (n.): the strange wistfulness of used bookstores.