Unwind

Time is spent in life well seen in eyes and streams of counscious things

I have been over to the wondrous stew of never seen things I have on a string

Can't one see? Coan't one see possibility? The ability of all that is yet to bring?

Winding down the low down truth that is yet to speak and yet uncouth...

There is yet no where to bring no where to sing my life I bring yet on some string

A piece of twine and can't malign the spine of mine I can't aline 

With What? WIth truth I can't design...I can't design...

Is it intelligent? Get bent, you mean evolution...

Is it God? Jesus! What about JC?

I piece of twine thats strung my life that I can't mind...

But just dance, thats all I do, seen in romance novels from france...

And where I go is somewhere between two unlike things

A bag of chips several days old and paid programming several hours new...

And there I am somewhere between two unlike things seen

Like my life dangling on a piece of string...Strung by twine like mind

Like my spine I can't aline, like my hair that doesn't malign

Like this feeling of weak morning light like this unfinished business yet...

I can't find. This feeling of museum dwelling of Bee Spelling of future telling...

So I reside in what I presume in self-made plumes in man-made monsoons...

Smoking away, my mind an ashtray, my own environment a green-house gas.

There I find my existence given to plastic bag resistance

Weighed down by Idaho Russet Potatoes and wonder bread what else god knows

And seen before some things I can't sing but heard like lore that once some string...

Broke...

And life was not what I spoke.

And time was not I could cope.

And There was nowhere I could...

Finish, compete, no closure given to the tendencies and lilt of semi-conscious, early morning, late night rhyme. Time to start. Unwind.