Missed Call, words

i may have missed my calling

i have wasted so many words, so much time, seen so many things that seemed to be succulent insanity

traversed through time and place to find myself fraudulently forward facing

always looking back and drifting off into memories of things best left forgotten, of things that didn’t happen, of things that couldn’t occur

should have been an assassin, a ninja, a nonchalant bodyguard of nonentities, a ghostly vanguard, canvassing the boulevard of teeth and juxtaposition

wrangling rancid variables and rotten reminiscences, rejuvenating and renovating all while remembering the reticence of reactionary revisionists

been a shepard or a sheep dog

forsaking fondness for visions of fleeting fame, of being g an author, a poet, a study of transient prose

hand modeling, designing footwear for quadriplegic executioners in spring catalogs for big box stores condemned by men in shiny suits and rumpled ties

web design for dark net versions of childhood reflections, fairy tales, long form prose and mythological meanderings

shark technical support for swimming pool revival firms in need of naughty nurses

i may have missed my calling card, credit card, debit card, playing card, tarot card, cardinal, milk carton graphic design artist

werewolf wingman, vampiric vegetable gardner for the stars, main line mummy bandage enhancement specialist

i could be doing so much more with the little ability i have not wasted, be shaped and molded into a mannequin for the powerful social elite to bandy about, put on display like a half melted sculpture of diabolical disaster

so much more, yet so much less

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