The Life Of The Poet Is A Fun Filled Carnivale

7 O-clock
Watched neighbours
Got all existential and anxtsy
made coffee
Had a flashback
They're getting shorter
This one was yesterday
7 O-clock

You know you have those dreams and you're in deep shit you've committed murder and everyone hates you or your legs fallen off and your trapped on a cliff ledge or your cars totalled all your possessions burst into flame and the entire cast of Bonanza, stand, point and laugh hysterically at your naked genitalia. I wake from bad dreams feeling only slightly relieved, that sweaty palmed anxiety followed by mild apprehension. Rituals quantify chaos Coffee.