there must be a poem for this.. i wrote 14 business letters expecting answers and got none of course i was asking for something. if i were offering, no strings attached my door would be beaten down but when you are asking the string is tied around your neck, your bank book, and the clock each moment that goes on without a return the clock and your neck tighten and tighten.. your bank book empty simply waits in the sun basking receptively as the sun goes down and the clock ticks aground your neck surrounded by bylaws of banking tanking, gasping for relief or a loan... a throne or a moan but for now ill take fish.. dinner is served....
Posted on: Thu, 30 Oct 2014 21:50:11 +0000
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