CONTEMPLATE REASON
sorry for itching
in all the confusion
digging a sink straight to hell
drifting aimlessly
through paper confetti
trying to mount the top of the heap
never realizing sorrow
or the mad ramblings of a mad son
of all the going ons
sun and earth
dry rain falls into my hands
the rim of the tire must conflate
to digest this madness
and contemplate reason