So,....

So fuckin busy I can't think
So much work
it makes my feet stink

So many people
to keep track of
so much time yet
no time for love

So fuckin busy I can't relax
So much work
and tons of tax

So many notes
with little bits
so much info and
no time for tits

I want to play
I want to fuck
I want to have my cake
I want a suck

So much work and
so little time
so much stress but
I'll be fine

You'll see,
one day soon

Thanks

So blue
I dig you

Why do I see what isn't there?
Why must I always stare
At the other side?

Is the grass always greener,
Or do I have a colored perception?

Only that which resides in
the soft mellow note of a blues song
sometimes penetrates my soul.

On a hip swing I ride it,
Giving my desk a rap with
My nimble digits.

Is it the music that drives me or is it
Something within me
That says I should partake?

I am one with the harmonizing tone
Only a melody can break me of this funk.

What notes you play on my heart
Shape me at the core.
But I definitely march to the
Beat of my own... trumpet.

You moving tune,
You rapturous beauty,
You shine and you make me smile.
You are my funny valentine.

Thanks, Miles.
You create...
within me.

I'm still around

I haven't disappeared off the face of the planet... not yet although I'm in negotiations with the aliens and am bargaining for a nice benefits package.

No, I'm just really, really busy. I'll be back soon. I promise. :) I have some good stuff to catch you up on! *evil grin*