it is nine AM and the spam callers have started intruding into my life that has been uncharted empathy, everyone has to make a living sympathy, it is my part to be forgiving
enjoying chaos, loving the tempest in the tea cup I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up the backward brain cannot make up its mind to God we are all just one of a kind
time will move on, with or without me a drifting raft in the middle of a large sea envious of those who own a motor debating my impact as a one in a million voter
is there a subliminal meaning to any of this drivel something to do with my head being mounted on a swivel rumbling, mumbling, stumbling, through one day at a time can perverse thinking be a punishable crime
pardon me but I am just having some fun trying not to get caught while being on the run