I'm doing it again
Flying my flag of inspiration seeker.
It gives me headaches of wild proportion but I keep going
Like those who starve me; like the sunset that swallows me whole
So I can have tea with the moon.
It's definitely worth going to sleep with a new work at hand
Rebranded, branded a fool when capitalist men exist
I'll weave poetry in the five senses till I collapse
Dying by the feet of bland brains; monotonous colours of consumed or not consumed enough days.