ROBOT

nothing definitive at this point.

however, come tomorrow,

whole different point of view.

another swing and miss.

no empathy intended here, folks.

just a cake wake, what's a cake walk?

cake with frequent flier miles;

with chocolate frosting.

and, as usual, Elvis has left the building.

not so much who am I

as it is what am I? and why?

significance of who and why.

what and why are all of it.

once what and why, answered,

then, only then, will deal with who. 

that was then, ma'am,

but this is now, today,

and as we all know, ma'am,

nothing ever stays the same.

no, ma'am, never, ever

does anything stay the same.

we all know this, ma'am, so should you.

now you do, ma'am.

privacy of one's own mind
imagination rules
shadow dancing naked
floating through and through
fathomless dreaming
silhouettes framed on wall
such artistic flare

sitting at window 
face pressed firmly against
gazing, dreaming

flickering sunlight through
gently swaying trees
time moving so slowly
surrendering towards infinity

span cam attachment
that special holiday gift
for those that have everything,
nothing, and long ago
lost their freaking minds.

a dime a dozen; get in line.
anything, anything at all
for a cheap rhyme
cold thoughts slithering
through drifting mind.