Hop on the bus…

Drop off the key,

There are that many invasions to

our thoughts per second

flight from the muse so quickly


the walls are caving in.

You know it is a strange time to be alive

everything is clear

then in a mere increment

more than 1 second but under five,

it could be deducted

from the other side of nothing

or maybe it’s between the leg and the thigh

wherever that exactly falls

and she runs, and runs and can’t get enough of anything and is so sick of the man who is taking her for granted.

Lee and set yourself free.

It’s not good, it’s like that bacon perfume ad from the 70s. It’s confusing, it’s unfulfilled unspoken and aggravation. Dear Dom, why is sublimation such a driving force of anguish? I wanted a definite ease of certain things, not this repeat whirlwind madness Discipline with the time that itself.

But you know

I don’t believe that time

is a thing

and that’s always


the reason

you kept


to me

 and set yourself free.

I cannot sleep

I have no doubt I picked the wrong career
I am horrible at choosing men so that’s a wash
And so for yet a third third time, I face
starting over
And I am just sick of it
And soon I will be tired of it too
And then too old to matter

I honestly don’t know why I am here
The adopted part makes it almost unbearable as does the abuse and the inability to have a family.

All I want to do is go far away and help starving people grow their own food.

This is honest this is the truth

And lastly my gratitude to all who have supported my endeavors