Thats how you feel.
Incarcerated
In an artist space

*** calm is great
But commas just punctuate
A tomach ache.
Period
My functions fluctuate.
Like oil prices
When Saudi floods
The markets
In a number race.
Consumption
Of an ugly fate.
And destruction at a stunning pace

Something In an endless sea
Of red.
I mean. The hungers fed.
The younger men
Don't know. Like toddlers.
Repeating something said.
To teachers.
Thinking its above their head.
I've been stumped again.
**** it man.
I'm becoming something
My mom  
Would Facebook click unfriend