If such a thing exists
Like a spark of flame,
like a blossom of colour,
The idea the same,
never changing..never changing...
The same pink shirt,
with the creamy white pants,
like a pile of turd,
never changing...never changing...
To wait for the jump,
of an eccentric idea,
the jolt of the lump,
of a half finished notion.
Stuck in the mire,
sucked deep under,
burning in fire,
ceasing to exist.
I cannot hold on,
to the half-finished thought,
the gist of the ton,
of the never-ending stream of crap.
Always smiling,
never frowning,
never leaving,
never changing...never changing...
Never moving away from the norm,
never straying away from the path,
never looking away from the picture,
never changing...never changing...
.Gasper.