It is all just a little bit weird.
Seriously. Even words.
WRONG! multiplied by echo { to the power of F(t) }

Soliloquy. There is no audience.

Imagine an empty hall. People were there once. Somebody left a ticket stub.
Dated 1984, 268 AF (after ford)
Sometime round then. They existed. Somebodies. People.

F(t) is exponentiality

Now I shall write a poem that rhymes
one that chimes with our times
A lyrical jest. A tongue twister at best

You could read what I write and you might think
Oh My Gosh this will drive me to drink

but having written for days to find the edge
I stumble upon a literal ledge
where words have no cander and a clown met a panda

Ok. Fine. Not what you expected
but Grammars out the window
and your authors not really invested.

A drip flows into a river
Breath becomes a cloud
Waiting to explode
a spark ignites the Heavens
Seeds dark hole bears a tree
Caves hide Cathedrals

Who thought the day would come?
When your food can talk back and politicians don't talk at all.
Children will figure out computers faster than high schoolers can get the sum,
and with so much information we forget our best friends phone number.

**** is as **** looks and dumb will get you laid.
Just do a Harlem Shake and get that pay raise.
Stop looking around, there is nothing to see
the world has ended, my dear.
Now we shop for sweeter snacks and the ends of constant war.

Love nothing, it's free, but we all know there is no such thing
because hate has left to fight the neighbour who wears a funny burkha.
We cry for our lives and scream at the difference when it doesn't go our way.

The end has gone, it's a pre-paid show, with freedom you will pay.
Forget about seeing the end of the world my friends, it's covered in plastics filth.

To be continued... as long as I'm not hated and sent to the gallows to rot.

Remember that one time, you caught a glimpse of that girl
You heard her eyes. She heard yours.

You'll see eachother again soon.
there'll be talk
of things
crying for your heart
finding your soul