I'm unreal

I'm disturbed. That's it.

Who could picture this? Such foul art no frame

could enhance. I pity the psychics, those who

live to read our psyches.

"Don't go there"

I recite this warning. Take heed. Give thought.

Between bravery and stupidity lies a bible

page fortified by Holy Scriptures and amen

to a man who manages to break that boundary.

And lately my mind has been bouncy. Jumping

from thought to thought and never fully holding

on to one. My past life haunts me and the

unknown future taunts me but through it all, I

discern an auspicious season and that's strange

coming from a pessimist. No one could picture

that. Such abstract art one is uncertain whether

to frame it or not. I pity no one. For pity is petty.

A pretty penny for my thoughts would make me

a rich man and I pity he who pays...

…attention at least.

Author's Note

I'm not bothered about grammar if so, I'm not free to express myself.