tap, tap...
Is this mic still on?
Are all of those blurred faces yours?
Or have all of you gone?

hello...?
I'm standing up here, here to be upstanding.
with words that fly through my head, wings creating whirlwinds,
I'm here maybe high-minded but seeking a landing.
And yet even the crickets are critics with their chirping demanding.

My attitude remains magnanimous,
while the reactions seem always unanimous...

"The streets fill up with people looking for a good time.
He went upstairs to change out of his good suit.
The attic needed a good cleaning.
"I've met many good people who made me feel ashamed of my own shortcomings"
A mysterious balance of good and evil..."

mic drop.
silence...for once.
Man blames hangover on everything but how much he drank,
he thought the next morning...

and Schizophrenia makes keeping one journal far too complicated.