I don't stand to make anything,
Off of these mistakes.
I wish I could off all of these gray days,
I wish I could spend my time with play dates,
Or play doh.
Just lay low in someone's lap...
Till I wake.
Maybe the sun's lap,
Just a timelapse,
Where I lie down,
And just white out,
Look at quiet clouds,
They're so bright,
I forget these,
I see starshine,
I see clotheslines,
See them blowing,
In the ozone,
They remind me,
Of the garden,
I'm at work but,
Still I go home.
I zone out: it's my zone now.
It's my dream land: and my soul shouts.
For some meaning! But I don't heed it at all.
I'm just meandering this screen while demons flee with my call.
I hear it, somewhere out there... in the distance.
A little ring. Like a quaint bug buzzing. Faint like percussion from a concert behind the mountain.
I hear it. I've been spending days, but really, who's counting?
The buzzing fades away, wish I could find the fountain.
If I found it, then I may.