queue thoughts

tryin’ to think

playing everything on shuffle

maybe times are on PM

morning and i’m tired

writing some lines in line before i return

sometimes i look in the mirror

and I see castles, castes, social class,

mysterious fellows in bright alleys

I see; I see oceans and crowds, gold and glory,

miles of toy houses ten stories tall

a swirling picture and I withdraw

I see everything except me

Where am I inside?

Would you tell me with ardent zest

of life like dulce et decorum est?

(tell me)