Untitled
by Kevin Crosby
12 October 2009
Some of you like to write nothing
Others a text mess or two
Even a poem or a paper
Torn from the book checked who knows who
I like to write bits of nothing so much
Put together in freaky fun horror, grind the clutch
When society demands I am so out of touch
I’m disabled and frightened in debt of a crutch
What tomorrow may bring me springs eternally in bliss
But right now, totally serious, I’m absolute pissed
That the rats path this maze to the kitty cat’s daze
Follow this, that, or the other thing in a worshiping craze
It pays
Or does it?
Hell no!
What the f***?!
Wandering basket cases learning nothing in touch
 
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