When alone and idle,
And too whacked to let the present or future rule,
When I let thoughts permeate the thinnest of cortical pores,
I would dig through the lapses in time..
That void in the continuum called memory,
That expedient trash of the undemented,
That oft bypassed obstacle in the path of reality,
That pocket of convenient memory slips,
That pulls into its labyrinth,
People, events, moments and ambitions,
That dissolves into its abyss,
Victories, laughter, defeats, and tears,
I would continue to stack up,
I would continue to dodge idleness.