(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

Too Much Of Nothing

My space is sacred.
My vital signs are fine for me.
No rat race paced.
I've removed myself from that misery.

Back off of my satisfaction.
Not attracted to a mess defined.
Nothing of mine is padlocked and stacked.
I've got a peace that sets me free.

My space is sacred.
My vital signs are fine for me.
No rat race paced.
I've removed myself from that misery.
Too much of nothing,
Is what others wish to bleed.
Too much of nothing isn't company I need.

Wrapped up and shackled...
I've got that madness packed.
I've got that tackled.
Wrapped up and shackled!

Too much of nothing,
Is what others wish to bleed.
Too much of nothing isn't company I need.
Wrapped up and shackled...
I've got that madness packed.
I've got that tackled.
Wrapped up and shackled!

My space is sacred...
And its kept safe,
From medicated minds!

by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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