Nauseous is the sense of all outcomes
Mixed with the wrong chemicals of our own product
Close encounter with sharp objects in the same room
Held up by disillusion
Vacant to our own advantage
Fill our own rooms
To things that please us
Unbalanced dreams hard to read
Then your words begin to become jumbled
Always out to push the envelop
Making your case
To solve new problems that may occur
Burdens that are drawn out to long
Trail of ignited gasoline
Leads to a heaped pile of filth
By: ObligatoryInsightPoet©
11/16/15
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