STOP!!!!!

A mumble, a stumble, a mentally driven rumble


Stop!
This pattern of wisdom heeds no warning,
Where the fuck is my bookmark,
Where on earth is my place.
My eyes cannot direct me to the past
because no one cares about dusty angst
the angst of a middle aged teenager
Or the voice of a washed up rock star.

This time, all of life is real
crumbling below me like ole Detroit's sidestreets
or Maybe an artists dream of floating through on merely words
or crooked fucking smiles, laughing at society..loudly..proudly
without thinking about groceries or insurance or family or tomorrow

How am i gonna sell this idea to anyone
Can I speak with anyone ever listening?
Why do I write?
Is it only because no one knows how to shut up...ever....
and just listen?