The Sophist

2014-08-25 12:00 am

New day intrinsically.
Prone intrinsic sleep,
A world so strange,
It mocks the sane,
Or so it seems to be,
As two arrange for three,
Plan the day,
Hours wane,
So one can live in peace,
Intrinsic wake so suddenly,
Search for cables in a rage,
Time is locked away.
Twenty minutes after three,
Moon falls soon from the trees,
Longing for to stay,
Now not time for play,
I clean myself and peace,
Work for eight or so at least,
Bike home,
Bus if there is rain,
Smoke a bowl then meditate,
One by one prepare the feast.
Deranged I aim to vaguely please,
People bitching in my face,
Keeping up a steady pace,
Intrinsically return to sleep,
New days for eternity.