Wrote a poem and felt like sharing:
Free form thoughts can't float in an unfinished bathroom.
Time melts the air like a rusted spoon,
it spins out of control and then on to the next persons life it wants to mess with.
To draw awkward patterns on the moments like the sound of a cats claws or the incongruity of some one not you wearing your hat.
I guess life is full of little oddities like these and all one can do is to try and not fall off the spoon.
