Elephants and Acrobats

Coming home soon.

Not the place to be.

This isn't either.

This is worse.

At home, you're too busy to think.

Here, all you do is stink.

Think of how you could have, or you couldn't. Would if you could, but can't so you won't.

Empty days and fair weather.

Pretentious writing styles and preposterous blather.

The poetry of unoriginality. A diary unkept.

A life scribbled in the margins, while taking the L Train to 8th Avenue.

A brief rundown, foolishly uttered.

A mental pygmy, among Atlases.

A love of things but not people. What happens when there are no more things to love?

So long, it's been good to know yuh.