call me infitessimal

for some time, I find it hard to walk on the ground,
More and more I find myself flying five feet down.
I find it hard to keep tight, boring thoughts in my head
when I can always take a chronic journey with the painted whore in my bed.

I find it hard to work in a row
always feel something like a dressed up crow
and there's usually some beautiful chaos to sow

yes, I've found it hard to walk on the ground
since I was a child in a five horse town
back when I could usually be found
swimming in a dazed tome about some by-gone age
or beautiful, civilized woodland...

but see the thing is now
I'm given a bit too much now
and taken a bit too much now (lol)
don't care if this poem flows now
never gonna get nowhere anyhow
see... seems I'll be walking on the ground...

with bare feet.