Where can I go.
Following me like the black plague,
Droppings here and there for show.
----let them lie where they fall
who is the big cheese
who is the termite at the top of the hill,
rambling longer, saying less,
having to search out a dying whale
simply to have meaning to it’s existence.
Excess baggage intended solely to take up space.
Tainting the atmosphere with worthless mindless waste.
Floating around with an atmosphere of
“too close for comfort.”
Sad isn’t it.
All the lies.
All the make believe
All the deception of fellow
members who take the truth for granted.
Like the willow, which can only bend so far,
drivel faithfully ranted,
comes to a bitter end