| Slo-mo Saturday I�ve nothing to say For I�ve no voice on a slo-mo Saturday. There are voices out the window, cars rolling by, And booze floating on the breeze but that�s just typical of a slo-mo Saturday. It�s the kind of day when I�ve nothing to relate or ponder even remotely. Yet all about and down the hall, the bustle of life Carries forth in laughter and long teary Sentimental spice. I simply lay naked and stare At the flies and the fan blades And ache in uncertain despair- Physical stress in vibrant shades. I feel my mind erode even as a greasy fart And I�ve no plans to even finish what I began. At least never on a slo-mo something-day. |