The air seems dim and gray,

So I sit outside on a restless blanket.

As I stray, I see that I may be asked such a thing.

”What makes your heart jump to lay out here on the street?”

Well,

For useless time spent,

I cried over spilled milk,

In May.

I left my shack on the 3rd,

And I couldn’t bare to strain my eyes,

On the sun,

the next day.

Next question you asked?

“Well, when’s the last time you showered..perhaps?”

If you’d kind so much to bother me for a shower,

Then why would you not forever come out here with me,

And be my awaited company?

I’m no old hag to toss and make fuss,

But you glanced at me..

And for what?

To let it be known there’s better living in a maze?

Or an obstructed society,

With a dome house, a crop to its lid, surrounded by horses that nay?

What do you take me as?

The future of this country,

Or a diabolical beast whom only eats whatever the trash can pay?

Listen.

Don’t ruffle your feathers with my peasantry,

I swell might be Cleopatra herself,

Dinning in my week,

or Turning in my speech.

You are that stranger,

That dangers me to teach.

I’m no better than the sweater on your lips,

For you to try and fix,

Yourself, to merrily put,

You are no better and you walk no higher,

Than the grass that I choose to ditch.

I’m only living,

In discernment.

Of a third eye that hastily couldn’t close,

Now as I dose,

I suppose,

I will dispose of your affection.

Tell me son of a gun,

What more is your next question?