What Is
Time?
Do you
know the artistic hours?
That time
becomes shredded
For the
day begins when you start to play
Sleep, an
anachronistic fascist
When your
mind is urging and so you write
And you
become the eccentric measure
What’s
your pleasure while you generate treasure?
Coffee by
the gallon or chocolate by the ton
I’m sure
the artistic mind was wired by a jester
Do this
or that as well as the other thing and your mind races
You see
expression is emotion from thought
With
extremes as you lay your soul naked in the light maybe for naught
But
that’s who you are and it all has to be done
No matter
for a million or for you, one
Over
sensed with highs and lows
Melancholic,
alcoholic, vitriolic and then sleep deprived lunatic
No comments:
Post a Comment