'you think i'm kidding?'

Words and words and words and words.

we all talk

but are we

saying anything?

Tis 4:31 in the a.m

and what a day it has been

a day indeed,

a day indeed.

across from me sits

mr, wright

in all his belabored

exhausted glory

his triumphant return

denied, rejected

unwanted, even.

he sits,

but he doesn't know why.

he doesn't seem to sure of much right now.

but perhaps he'd like some snacks.

perhaps.

perhaps he'd like some tea?

perhaps I

will offer him some.

an offer was offered,

and a polite refusal

was returned.

he seems enthralled with

some sort of cellphone game

cellphone.games.

interesting metaphor.

1two3four5six

eighteen times

ring ring ring

no answer, the poor guy.

am i tired?

surely.

but do i have much else to do?

not really.

not truly.

alls that left to do is sit and wait

certainly, certainly

this is a silly competition,

but there doesn't to be

much of an alternative.

and so he sits and plays games

with himself,

music millionaire

apparently.

who is elvis presley's original

manager?

this is the kind of question

that preoccupies us right now.

perhaps

perchance

perhaps if i brought a sleeping bag

to the beach

this would have all been different

but perhaps

this way

it was for the best.

i hope.

i do.

so it goes.

so it goes.

vonnegut to the rescue!

so it goes!

so it all goes.

it's all one long joke and we're living it right now.

the only mistake is to take it seriously.

only seriousness leads to violence.

be kind, rewind,

thank ye.

what to do

and what to say

silence is all we got

we're waiting something

out,

and i'm not quite sure what it is.

oh well.

oh well.

so it goes.

ramble ramble ramble.

i hope music millionaire is going

just great

because this here

is moving along rather nicely.

break.

break.

aha! perhaps you accuse me

of mistaking

fragmented sentences

for poetry

aha! and i say,

perhaps i am mistaken

but perhaps i am not.

so it goes.

4:46 in the a.m.

game is on.

game is cool.

games games games.

it's bound to get old eventually.

it all gets old eventually

WE all get old eventually

it all dies.

we all die.

when everything's reborn,

maybe we'll be part of that everything,

but maybe not,

so don't you count on it.

this is getting old.

i am getting tired.

i am going to pass out.

i shall say

appropriate farewells.

to you all,

now,

farewell.

this night couldn't possibly

get stranger.