i am the imagination of my figment
what do you say when the world burns before your eyes, was nice knowing you?
the world is changing and it is not for the good generations cry.
haiku require a collection of syllables of five, seven, five.
prep the stretchy pants time to ingest some yum-yums it’s taco tuesday.
this pen stains paper with the ink of creation look upon carnage.
windchimes sing their songs speak the language of breezes be it soft or shrill.
weekend warriors forty-eight hours is all they have to finish.
planning the party an endless preparation then over too soon.