Flying by, wasted on things of
meaningless significance.
I could be doing something
more worthwhile if only
I could break out of the cycle
of days and nights drifting
together in a messy blur
Like a child's drawing
Events occur but are blended
creating a colorful yet monotone
collage of pictures, people, words
Ideas loosely link them in a
disorganized chain
Friends that care, share and listen
and others who turn their backs
in my hours of need
I walk along then there's someone
we go somewhere see someone else
do something, no particulars.
Only generalities, forming the
outline of what my life could be

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 [kristin buxton]  [email]  [poetry]