The zip locked lips and fingers kiss
The cabinetry on which I sit
The bludgeoned budget, ruth-a-less
The whoosh of baskets sunk with swag
The stiching on designer bags
The vulger who profanly brag
The bouncer that enjoys a drag
The happiness, and sworn to health
The sappiness when poems are felt
The fluid of a passing day,
Swirling passive down the drain
The willingness to drift and dream
Projected movies through a screen
I simply watch, observe, obstain
This knowing is a claim to fame
The openness that fans the flame
The origins, of how it came
To flourish, dissolve, and exist
To wind around Samsaras mist
Perhaps in essence gone from world
Forsaken blood and precious pearl
We spin in circles, tilt-a-whirl
All influence turns and swirls
Perhaps for waste, perhaps for cause
To last for years, or leave like fog
What in the end becomes alright
Might make one weary during the night
The rain it pours on sheltered roofs
Both dignified, also astute
The situation sparks and climbs
Flooding corridors in my mind
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