It's about feeling a sense of continuum, dry
turbine twist in your gut, when you think
of places, faces of people you've met, stories
you've read, and how things seem to be lacking
real substance. Or maybe, it's over time
that you acquire a calmer willingness to
forget more common things, like how many times
you've walked this way to work, your neighbours
occupations, (then names), and find you care less
the more you get to know. How it eventually
seems we all boil down to an interesting rumor
or an unfortunate event, all set down in a small
town, so much like the one you grew up in
it has you thinking in circles. Then your daughter,
this beautiful-blue-eyed stranger, walking beside
you asks, What is the purpose? And, all of a sudden
you're a skinny, white Oprah telling her how to live
her best life, while trying to steer her away from
thinking how you don't live like that. Deep down
you want to say, how you've let life become
a stale continuum; a white lab rat caught in a maze;
and you're too damn stupid, lazy, and fucking
afraid to do anything but. She knows it, but won't
say it today because she's broke, and needs you
to pay for her habits, and her wheels are spinning...
~
Gold trophy winner
Adding your comment:
! My taxi has come to pick me up! 
