Held together by the vacant solidarity of dreams.
All the nonsense of a drunken mind; excited, bursting seams.
Rather die trying outside, than killing each other in here.
Our silo’s locked; reams of data & video, all unclear.
Like one Scrooge McDuck & his swimmable oubliette of coin.
My backstroke’s the same in the treasures from trash that I purloin.
Grip of fever, pen in hand; I take note of cold sweat visions.
Fever broke & left my page suspended in indecision.
Well, do I share my nonsense works…ones I barely understand?
Yes…outliers & B-sides lend substance to my one man band.
L.B.Stowe 