I never sleep. I wander along the road
eating apples, lemons, bisque and brulee.
The trees rain paper in the pixelated wind.
I live on what I make.
I make what I need.
I watch others barter, pirate, act from benevolence or greed.
There is the need to be excellent,
to be well-fed, to be masterful, to be happy.
There is the need to wander.
If the world is small & crowded, be patient.
I’m leaking red paper from the pack. Don’t go back,
only forward on this path.
