In the morning we remember
on our own we wont get by
that which doesn’t instantly kill you
can’t be lived without in time

plagued by crazy dreams
who knows
but maybe they’re more than what they seem

through a daily ceremonial ritual
phantoms and things unreal unsaid undone
collages and the like
sublimate
and now seem to be nothing more
than smoke rings in my mind
disappearing rapidly with each gust of wind

time doesn’t fly by it spirals and wobbles drunkenly to and fro
it’s no wonder it’s never really there

All I know is when the sun arrives
and the bell tolls it’s usual marching tune
I’ll do my best to get by

I envy clouds
they don’t need coffee or tea or tobacco or weed
but they still need something

to get them going
all it takes is a gentle breeze

-Tyler Worthington