I took a walk and somebody vented,
Came home with so much negativity stuffed inside my cranium I saw the world as if even the verdant green trees were gray days and what does my brainmatter I lay down on my bed and took a five minute power nap and rose up and still felt tired, but I felt lighter, I shed the anger like it was skin and threw it out the window doused in gasoline with a match on top.
I sit down by the computer,
I'm tired again, I guess that's what happens when you're woken up at eight thirty in the morning after having played Pokemon the night before since after one and it's such a pointless tiredness, I wish I could shake it but the more I shake the more tired I become, at least my foot pain went away, I thought I couldn't take a walk but it seems that was just a morning handicap. It's cold in here.
Is this poetry?
Or is it just run-on rambling, benign and babbling I sit here wishing I could be nine, wishing I didn't need time to channel my growth, I chamber an oath, I vanquish on fate, my banquette is lunch, I'm about to watch a movie cause I'm too slow to be doing what I know I should be doing but I'm too slow. So I'm moving to my new home. Immersing myself in the visions presented before me as if they were my new bones, my bone marrow, like a lone sparrow I sit perched on my throne's saddle. Maybe waddle down to fire up the oven and put a bun in or something before I'm done in lunching watching 'Airplane' till I get rear pain.
The day is great, at least I'm not late up. I'm awake and I don't believe fate sucks cause I don't believe in fate, I just hate to wait, and I don't have to wait but I wait because I mash my grapes. I wine. Looking back in time, New Year 1999 was fine, the fireworks in the sky lighting up our spooky night. I played tennis and ping pong, I think I wrote a song and back then I knew it wouldn't be long before my lyrics were strong like King Kong! It used to go a bit like this, messy, but fresh and adhesive, and not with this bitter lisp gained by living long.
Will I find my lip balm bliss?
Palm trees by a calm beach and sip on chips, dripping sweat, flipping scripts with a pitcher of Ginger Ale or Coconut juice. Sun bleaching my hair. Something tickling me feet. Something lifting me up, sunsets letting me drift off to sleep. I sip on the hope of the dope I'll see, finding a homely coping in a boatload of groceries. Is it me or just a hunch(ed back punching bag)? I imagine in a minute, I'll be down for lunch, the kitchen's just in reach. Life's a beach.