Bushy Pathway Sunday

this box in a bushy pathway represents the direction of my life and the end of my world as i watch the grass grow and the trees sway only to find myself even more lost that i ever was originally in every daydream i am in a time machine rubbing a magic lamp anticipating the surefire wishes that i know in my heart will, without doubt, come true that stump with the bird manure collection aids in my relaxation as i write poems in my mind that will not see the light of day neither on computer nor on paper intentionally ignoring ideal ideas idiotically, i become blind to the potential of the art's buried treasures and hidden discoveries i know somebody will unknowingly beat me to the punch today and spike it with the exclamation of his or her celebration i guess i am a lazy loser full of awfully absurd glorification i will never show my face again due to the great damage of my self demoralization