diary your trash my trash what's the morning without the scraps and damages yesterday's floor a time

machine yesterday brought into today just a reminder of what my life's achievements come to trash on the floor savage recognition...that.. trash on the floor maybe i'm a seagull the bird of paradox scrawny and lustful and always hungry that's me, that's my bird i'm a garbage gull we all have our totems and even from the outside looking in but that's an impossibility i'm on the inside i'm the VIP of my own life i'm a shadow boxing champion reacting to uppercuts and jabs uppercuts and jabs and a punch to the spectral diaphragm bad morning but it feels good to say that not as good as a cigarette and a day of fucking off but still good it's called being a poet