The current is strong. Redundant.
Washing me spleen. Spectral clean.

Self-effacing, outline of zee life.

Yet another episode of fishing for purpose. Circus freaky.

Rhythms of season, discordant.

And this faint scent, deodorant.

Utopia, myopia. For I can't see far.

Suckerpunch, catching me off guard.

Really, why am I even here? Why have I set foot amidst tendency of foreign affairs?

Hmm. Might at the end of tunnel. Fair