delve into the life of anyone....some richer some poorer
this is a day of mine…

woken by movement presidents tumble from their slumber
encased in finger and thumb dirt but leather bounds are a higher number
cents ignore paper and dont take note, the pulp say they make no sense but they all got the vote
bickering in the dark inscribed with quotes, soon the hand of destiny chooses who's needed most
in their material world other objects reside
lint lines their dwelling inside along with phones and all kinds of different things besides
unique prints cameo depositing and withdrawing all matter
faces change while others scatter, sometimes its crammed or vacant constantly thinner or fatter
existence hinges on a button or belt
inches to feet off ground their residence is near legs pelt, awaiting on hands to be touched and felt
but daylight rarely penetrates the shaft
in the blackout everyone is wearing a mask, colliding amongst themselves all random parked
however the leather marauder occupies the prime space
resting between the flaps its a credit place, and sheets, pics and random stuff falls between its grace
through out the day digits pluck their victim
down for the count the palm of limb, spends evictions and uses a rectangular block to send textual scriptures
friends part ways whilst some replicas are retained
clones of mint linger with dues to be paid, and fingers reach and fumble with others all day
and that afternoon I met beauty and she gifted me her number inked paper
parting with seared vision the precious note was stashed in Mecca's for later…..
but as night forces my lids to droop i know i cant stop it
unbuckled and zippered down times for the jeans to drop it and cupping the change in my pocket the round men of yester year have kept the lining in profit
dawn broke and i woke up to repeat the regime
but as i reached for that familiar place there were no jeans
enter mum... 'Hi, I just put your pants in the machine'
'Don't worry in half an hour they'll be clean'
NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
mind clicked and beauty was now reduced to water
now no writing caught her, essence drowned in a biological slaughter
everything fits into the cycle even sometimes washed
rattled and rolled or crumpled and squashed forgotten men when foreign hands dont check the pockets and then reappear lost


you never know what part your pocket may play on your destiny…..
just don't let their contents escape from your clutch