I ain’t no emo but a happy hardcore metal punk emo so poetry and song lyrics isn’t my thing. I am a improv type classical jaded pianist passionate about music but my dream career already posted and patiently wondering why i can’t truck freight over some bullshit dual fucking mental health diagnosis.
so, i write err compose on flat.io one bar loop repeats out of border kicking rocks on the curb as any trucker would when standing waiting to be loaded in the waiting room counting onduty time against my driving time and eats the hours to drive and hopefully the dispatch then realizes err the appointment to be deliver will be changed. so, reading the map a trip planning every hour to make sure the freight gets there on time safety.
but heres the haiku think of such a mother like a brother not sure but the ultimatums of my family giving me a notice to vacate three years ago on this bullshit small disability check leaves me on an adventure journalling and writing and composing and drawing mazes.
BRO-MO
best friend to chill with
enjoying like a mother and brother
loss to accepts hurts much
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