the possibility of wasting time

 

it’s a chance when no wise men agree.

some of the several times when somebody’s a fool compromise,

i hide from a shame of unintentional performances.

my thoughts can bother or go wild.

there are images fabricated insufficiently.

 

i’m a manner of chaos and a manner of peace.

something happens without an explanation.

yet it can be understood.

 

conflicts make perplexities question one bard.

i own my scope of random production,

where i write and put down in words, my soul.

a sigh of relief when everything comes in completion,

it’s overwhelming, depending on how to grasp.

 

the possibility of wasting time—

 

there is, there are.

one agrees, or so i don’t.

 

 

2012

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