My Brain Walking Too Fast Ahead of Me At An Amusement Park

I’m detecting a hint of razzmatazz

The way I understand it—nobody likes the truth—but I think it’s lovely.

Quantum superposition sounds like an impossible chapter in the Kama Sutra

I’ve never cared for the sound of being alone

I tilt towards being a bit quixotic

My material inclinations favor the basically exotic

Like an otter’s favorite rock

My behavioral traits include nicely diabolic

I eat, but only in jest

 I look, spectacularly

I spell scrutinize, but only with my two i’s

I wonder once or twice

Each day I start with being alive—then add layers

Routine randomness is where I thrive

It is those simple complexities and placid intensities in which I derive my pleasure and contentment

Not without some residual resentment

Of which I struggle to expunge

I have no business with those feelings

They weigh things down

Jettison

Flotsam and jetsam

Emptiness can be nice

But not solely

Not alone

JArtB

0250, Monday, August 17, 2026