There’s a bland sort-of awakening in every cap you pop off. Some make asses out of themselves, disregard everyone else, some become everyone else, and some create everyone else down on paper. Logic shouldn’t come into play while daydreaming or making up lullabies. Cats play drums on garbage can lids. Acid trips make buildings grow in between the yellow lines on any highway. Polish my shoes, this journey is taking me places that I never thought I’d go. The train left without me, but somehow I managed to climb on top as it took off. I guess I wasted money on a ticket. Don’t call me anything you don’t want to be called unless it’s a “bad poet”. I take pride in being a Bad Poet, in fact I hope I’m the one who creates the genre that takes over the world. “Bad Poetry”. Chess in the park against a bum, that’s where I learned how to survive in this reality.