This isn't the best time
but it’s better than before.
Betting Buttery words that I just adore,
And taking not enough time but simply more.

Just thinking about it since,
Maybe around four?
That sounds about right.
Past the middle of the night.

Staring at the ceiling,
Reeling,
Trying to think it and make it appealing,
We all know that feeling.

And this time is better than the time before,
But I'm still biding, before buying more time, once more.
Then I think somewhat fleeting,
What’s it all for?

Is it an edge or a seam?
Something that needs to be seen,
Bathed in a jealous green?
Someone with an envious gleam?
If I can't figure it out I'm going to scream.

It’s a lover’s touch, that’s not to much,
With this and that and such and such.

With words nearing the notion
of thoughtless commotion,
I drift toward the ocean
With a metaphorical shore.
Where’s my allure, my need to explore?
With a meaning unknown
but I know I'll adore.
Just having enough time than
The time before.