We go where we must
We trust who we trust
In the end my friend
It’s so hard to adjust
To changing faces
Scary places
Nomadic journey inward
As Gods love replaces
I sleep in precious increments
Wired for 18 hour days
Once I ran the corporate race
Now I smell the roses
Not a lot you can take from me
Paltry fiat paper
Years of zipped lunacy
Painful human stress
Visions of sweet heaven
I’ve lived and loved quite fiercely
Full tilt
No regrets
Not worried bout the future
Serene point of view
Life on the fringe
Sentimental years
Bittersweet romances
Excruciating tears
Silky smooth caress
Emotional morose
Social comatose
Mask of false obeisance
For those who churn the most
© Bill Grimes Jr. 2010
