All that remains: in afterlife as 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know. 20k views |
Damn cellphone So easy to write poetry to you Does it have to be in traffic? Muse thinks so Better than scribbling On a grocery receipt While exiting highway of delusion Thinking These words need capture I won’t recall Ignoring what Mama said If you can’t remember Must not be important But this heavenly device Talk to text Could secure even The most tragic thoughts Or My last moments Worth it? Muse seems to think so Or have I been answering petulant mirth of youth That child could never grow up Eaten but undigested In my belly Where I spare him life This wheel is so easy to manage I could set up office By air vent Phone accessibly clipped Hands free Siri answer me Can you open notes? She will comply My secretary Because In ten minutes of clarity Serendipity will inspire muse Play with the lonely child Transient in memory To try again understand Why he’s jailed In the soul of such a careless driver. Sent from my iPhone New Edit: Soul of a Careless Driver Damn cellphone, so easy to write poetry to you. Does it have to be in traffic? Muse thinks so. Better than scribbling on a grocery receipt while exiting highway of delusion, thinking, these words need capture. I won’t recall. Ignoring what Mama said, If you can’t remember, must not be important. But this heavenly device with talk-to-text could secure even the most tragic thoughts, or, my last moments. Worth it? Muse seems to think so. Or, have I been answering petulant mirth of youth? That child could never grow up, eaten, but undigested in my belly where I spare him life. This wheel is so easy to manage. I could set up office by air vent, phone accessibly clipped, hands free. ‘Siri answer me. Can you open notes?’ She will comply, my secretary; because, in ten minutes of clarity serendipity will inspire muse, play with the lonely child, transient in memory, to try again understand why he’s jailed in the soul of such a careless driver. Sent from my iPhone |