In my head

Familiar blank white pages of a progress in my life chosen to not be told. Sitting here in the bedroom where I woke, I look around not taking anything, anymore, as a simple joke. Choke, no I don’t anymore instead I bite my tongue and press my lips against until none are thought of but only reminded of the meaning of Respect. Strings play my hands sway, sway, sway away, glide across the keyboard as I smile. It’s like a game. My fingers always win. Beer in hand thinking of thoughts to think of then write about, my fingers so quick, where’s my mind at? I haven’t the slightest… Just a lot of Led playing making me happy. Not the cold beer pressed against my crotch, “it’s the way I’m sitting, silly” I respond to sinful thoughts. Toothpaste on my finger, spreading across, the mind with a land of a plan and legend to be sought out for.