Empty
My math is cotton
so rough from lack of perspiration,
it’s…
desert dry,
crusty,
crumbling,
dusty.
Void
My bank account empty,
I insert checks which are worthless,
because my interest has accumulated
balancing it out to negative and zero.
FULL
My stream of conscious ha no place to settle,
because it’ streaming,
ebb and flow
strength of a river
trickle trickle,
it moves and yet,
I feel alone,
with my thoughts.
There you go my friend, Terror Scott. As you requested.
