Notes in a bottle
Do not exist.
Time, it turns out,
Can be sufficiently pissed,
You will insist.
Time is working against you.
Putting you in that smarmy pile.
You lose you and all the while
You love suspending reality.
See what’s to see, but
What you now see isn’t free.
It’s a loading of dice.
No thinking twice.
But, they threw it, yelling…
Bring me every damn ace anten!
The squares are rounding up.