Lost in the thoughts,
that rot.
Stinking stuff, that never ought to have stuck around.
Lost wheels, spinning in shit, slipping uselessly, never forward.
Never back, never nowhere, rotating, dum, dum, dum.
Was there a good one in there somewhere? Sometime? Tomorrow?
Of course!! But it is lost right now.All in the mix.
The soup turned brown.
1 comment:
That shiny beast can be awfully slippery.
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