I climbed up using the chimpanzees' hands.

I hired a mirror as my bodyguard, But it keeps mimicking everything I do. I say, "Guard me," and it says, "Guard me," And there we stand in the hallway, looking like two fools. My laptop retreated into a Buddhist teapot; Now it meditates on the "Blue Screen of Death." I write to it: "Come back, I haven't saved my work," But it replies: "All is fleeting, brother; you should let go, too." A dance school opened up inside my closet; Slippers are teaching socks how to waltz. I took a peek—and got pulled right in; Now I’m dancing with someone else’s coat. I bought myself a bit of inspiration, But it turned out to be past its expiration date. I had to toss it and live on my word of honor, But I lost my word of honor in the laundry. My cat earned himself a second degree; He’s now a Master of Dreams and Sausage. I ask him, "Have you lost your mind?" He says, "I’m growing—you could learn a thing or two." A portal opened up on my balcony, But it doesn't lead to Narnia—it leads to the housing office. I stepped inside and vanished for a month; I came back with a utility bill and gray hair. A rock garden sprouted on the back of my head; Rakes grow there—the very ones I hit myself with. I dig them up and plant them all over again, Round and round it goes—just like in life, just like in the movies. My alarm clock turned into a stand-up comic; It rings and cracks jokes about my death. I tell it, "Enough already, that’s depressing," But it says, "It’s funny, though! Get up—don't be a bore." I tried writing a letter to myself, But the post office refused: "Recipient not found." I say, "How can that be? I’m right here." They say, "You aren't him; you haven't been him for a long time." All in all, everything is wonderful, everything is in order— Except that order is just chaos in a suit. I sit here, tying knots out of thin air, Waiting for my meaning to arrive... but it’s on a bender.