my poor diligent darling
steadily lining all those duckies in a row
whilst here am I, planning
scheming

it's all worked out my dove,
why the delay?
no need for EVERY light to be green
we've all the major ingredients, come join me in the kitchen
(you know I know my way around)

it's our recipe
so what if it doesn't read the same as others

The taste's the thing how in I'll catch my conscience king

Every dollar I make I already owe.

I miss poetry in my life.
Desperately.

Hungry for art, starving for financial ease.

All I know to do is keep on working, I have good work, honest work, but it's just not enough--for either aspect.

Have a love I can not feel and a paycheck which disappears in moments and no time to enjoy life with.

Is this all that can be expected of adult hood?

America, where you're free to live in debit; month to month a way from homelessness yet you're still better off then the rest.

Amen.