my mind feels like small hands
unable to hold the many coins
spewing from the mouth
of the universe's muse machine
my words an inadequate pail
and now I prepare myself for
the waking world having not slept
I want to fling the coins into the air
to be caught by passers-by
and share them with friends
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defining existence through mayhem. life, my life, is sustained by the junk of adrenaline and bizarre experience, as adventure is an opportunity I cannot forsake. synchronicity plots my next move always.
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