I am not my phone photographer

I am a complex signposted self

I have passions and remote controllings

I am asleep with Santa’s elves.

I am lost in the darkness when the lights are off

I am enlightened each day but the sun won’t shine when I smile

I go the extra mile

I work hard for my money

But the effort of conditioned existence is not funny

When will the joy be permanently established?

When will the food establish the end of the pained famished

Soul seeking the left and the right in the night of the dark soul

Repeating deep waters when the forest is for chasing Saturday’s day off

When I can sleep in and dine well with the neighbours

Less than a comedy for a motion to emotional clouds

When there is Wednesday for some space and I am loud.

Then there is chatter and less self analysis

Matter over energy for the class of fish.

Calm down noisy self and seek less what is not worth finding:

Write about flowers and day trips, so we may be less blinding.