written by owen on 2007-Jul-28.
After you have set up the perfect game of checkers the resident 5 year old will eventually come up and try to match the colors in a pattern. Heaven forbid your winning your first game of the night. Your drunk, driving in the wrong lane. Try to make me go to rehab. Luckily I'm not too bad, not like a grenade that wants to blow up on you. Totally oblivious to the greater world around her, destroying my chances of winning a cellphone. Hieghts of great men. Not that I need a cellphone. Cellphones are like candy to a baby, sugar for my honey, nowadays its the thing to give. As if there is a mass cellphone deficiency.
The reasons unknown. My Mathematical Mind doesn't even think straight anymore. I'm too high on life. I need to change my ways, stop riding the brakes. Get along with myself. Stop. A new hustle. Fly into the sky, so very high, just like a dragon fly. I actually posted this but then took it down because I wasn't satisfied with its fat content. I nolonger sleep to dream. Nothing else for me to do but dance. Turn the clock to zero honey I'll sell the stock and start another brand new day. Its a long, long, long way down.
I would have been more enthused about winning cake. Cheese cake like a mid summer night's dream. Those days are gone though, as the days when they would serve bread and colored "cheese spread" at parties. Hear me praying Lord. In those days, when you were young, a birthday party was like being transposed into a another dimension in which everything was colorful, sweet, nice, sticky, and castles were filled with air. I spoke to the woman in the office, down stairs, add her to my list, wrap myself around her. From the place where I used to live. She had awful hand writing and proceeded to ask me questions, but I had nothing on her - no cake at my disposal. My heart was more than able, I should be studying, instead I search for something to tie me over until.