Living in the Land of the Lost

In the Land of the Lost, on my floor;folks crazed A wod jane does yell trash in flush room.; felt miffed My nerves tense, on this floor -I’m on edge;feel brash Here 8 months there is no hope in sight; feel stiffed There’s an old bag here that bums for cash; she’s trash How to be sane ? I then write poems; do art Strange sounds comes when my roomy does sleep-old old pfart I tell him stop it please I crash hard; mind dazed, Need more cash to live here.I say your; bucks due. Funds, ask your kin be nice small talk will help you First two floors and 3 west folks seem not so bad. I hope the other wards are fairer, am glad, Nice things to state about the Vigi,caff great. I like tuna sarnies all dressed please;first rate I am finished with this poem with much heart .