Bushy Pathway Sunday
this box in a bushy pathway
represents the direction of my
life and the end of my world as
i watch the grass grow and the
trees sway only to find myself
even more lost that i ever was
originally
in every daydream i am in a time
machine rubbing a magic lamp
anticipating the surefire wishes
that i know in my heart will, without
doubt, come true
that stump with the bird manure
collection aids in my relaxation as
i write poems in my mind that will
not see the light of day neither on
computer nor on paper
intentionally ignoring ideal ideas
idiotically, i become blind to the
potential of the art's buried treasures
and hidden discoveries
i know somebody will unknowingly beat me
to the punch today and spike it with the
exclamation of his or her celebration
i guess i am a lazy loser full of awfully absurd
glorification
i will never show my face again due to the great
damage of my self demoralization
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