Poetry

What have I to loose
but misunderstood
broken dreams
that curdle in my nightly garments
fermenting cotton string seams

echoing misfortunes
good for nothing communications
maybe we'll do this
as we sit and stare
no where
no where
no where to go
maybe i'll make use of this time
instead of looking down low
obeservating this plane
flying me away
it's like when i'm awake i'm dreaming
because in my dreams is where i'm scheming
and plotting
in the other life
i travel far
wake up again
where did you go this time?
zanzibar.

And it's all for free, there is no holding back
no bad emotions,
no black fits-too-well sack
no,
it's all so free
that must be heaven
So i balance it out here
as lucky not so lucky but lucky
number seven.