I wrote poetry in the pages of my book
and my son scribbled over it
         I wondered who really made
                  more sense.

When I get old and live with my kids
I'm gonna do all the things that they did
I'll get up way before dawn
I will be their human alarm
I scream I'm hungry in the wee morning hours
I will complain when it's time to take a bath or shower
I'll scribble my latest creation on the walls
And on the siding I'll bounce all my *****
I'll spill my milk, so the cat can drink
I won't scrap my plate, when I put it in the sink
I'll refuse to eat my veggies and meat
And if able, run wild in the street
I'll set real close to the tv, blocking their view
Clicking all the channels before I am through
I will change clothes a million times a day
And when I'm done, on the floor they will lay
And when they have taken about all they can stand
I will say "I love you" while I'm holding their hand
And at night when I am fast asleep
In my door they will creep
And softly say "doesn't she look so innocent and sweet"
As they gently cover up my feet

Free flow, a style i'm having trouble understanding. My thoughts a faster pace than it can even begin to fill me in on? My mind is the speed of light yet I can't fathom the concept? My perception is what proves reality, yet here I am chasing ghost and making up excuses. I've lost track so many times the light years of my nerves have aged. My spirit is uplifted, but I find myself separate. This might just all be senseless, but to me I'm making more sense than any man. I am my reality, so it doesn't matter if i'm accepted.

LITTLE MOMENTS OF MY LIFE ILLEGIBLE  LIKE SCRIBBLES ON PAPER.
THE CHILD WILL NOT STAY BETWEEN THE LINES ANYWAY.
DANGLING ORNAMENTS JUST REMEMBRANCE OF THOUGHTS PUSHED BACK.PUSHED BACK,
YET STILL HELD ON TO, WITH OR WITHOUT KNOWING
THE PAUSE, REWIND, AND FAST FORWARD HAVE BECOME THE NIRVANA FOR THE NEW MILLENNIUM.
CHEW THE FRUITS OF LABOR
AND PUSH IT INTO THE HOLE IN THE WALL.
CHEW THE FRUITS OF LABOR AND PUSH IT
IN THE HOLE IN OUR SOULS.
WHAT IS LEFT NOW SLOWLY WITHERS AWAY
AS DUST IN THE WIND,FLYING IN OUR FACE
TRYING TO BLIND US.
WE MUST BRUSH OF THE DIRT EVERYDAY