trucked rhythm, trackONE

Straight to coffee, my way not sloppy–
Epileptic with eagerness.. Set a set with an
Eden mist: radar tracking me, my indie
Ideology.. One of free sprees. Caught in
Lies, tossed aside. Only in diaries confide.
Tide high, but my pride abides. Discipline planted
in hope, persistence pitted in olden gold ropes–
Casted a vote from differently distant boat.
Keep weapons in invisible tote. Buy
Myself a Czech tech, no warranted arrest– redressed–
Stephen King in this chair, hyper typer..
War declared, December temper. Of many offender, me,
Neither borrower nor lender.  Cure is 2B

purist.. switch modes, poetry only.. I’ve overdosed & closed

to prose.  Colder than Kilimanjaro snow.  Up a river’s row–

sometimes, better off not2Know, write my way to bakery, hopefully

excess dough.  With a life of less low, more altitude without the news.

And more