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Routines
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.
