Priest’s off to the disco and dean’s asleep
The age has its calling
You tell me there aint gonna be a better chance
We’re but to make it past the sentry
And over the fence a solid plan still
A plan to spoil
These post pubescent flings left but
A dent upon the membrane of daily
Parceled rational
With all its harmonic pell-mell
I did manage to pick up
Some wisdom along the way old gal
Albeit empirical observation would
Have chaos prevail over law
Now days I often find myself considering
That which I did not
Hesitate to discard before
Minute additions to the hoarded repetition
Reckon it all gone south with the
Arrival of the soter shouldn’t have
God instead of son had had a daughter
From atop crest of the useless
Hill the dwellers of sequestered within descend
Towards the cowards’ den eternal
Woman enlightened man

Alex, 28, Bellevue Washington.