Uno...I used to write a lot of poetry.
Dos...I used to draw a lot of sketchings.
Tres...I used to play sports every day.
Left or Right Wing, Near or Far East,Up or Down Town, Lover or Po’ Boy.
Aims and guiding Sliding to suffer Another daily grind Coffee mug, bread
Smiles, sorrows, angst, That peculiar longing To fly, to lose touch...
Call me Ichabod, Call me anytime To guide and show The Way, the Truth,
The Life style Always wanted to Disjointed midnight mumbling A loving father if I can only
Dig through the center of this rock. But a bird doesn't dig...
Three, of course. C'mon, how moody I am. I was E-Mo before there ever was such. Whatever, Not that emos can't play sports. I bought a soccer ball today and had two offers to play basketball. I can't weight for the gym to open, I brought my bag gloves, and jogged today, realizing the heart is also a muscle. Joga, Bolivia!

No comments:
Post a Comment