My routines are constant changing seasons.

4 quarters of life equals a dollar

And it still doesn’t make sense.

Perpetual poverty places me without welfare.

Wanting something serene trips my turmoil

And still I don’t change.

Soma supplements supply me with character driven catharsis.

Dubra daydreams,

Hazy hallucinations,

And stress sacrifices.

My love loses control every second and

Fairy tale fortunes still fold only 8 times.

Mathematical solutions give grand misinterpretations

And my gentle hands fortify my feelings of solitude.

I wish for beauty of the perfect kind.

White picket fence fantasies and

2 1/2 kids kicking 9 month melodies of divinity.

Divine intervention like a last leg of

Hope for a 90-year-old teenager,

Driven for an hour, diffused forever.

101 personalities for a person troubled with one.

Copy-written characteristics of Filene framed families,

But it sure looks good.

We live life like peas, all alike and so easily devoured.

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