I waste my time musing away at thoughts placed on paper, considered to be rants by most and poetry by some. I call myself a poet, and this is a word which is ambiguous at best. See, I had a argument the other day and I've been forced to move. Which direction do I go, what bend in the road shall I mind, or what cross do I bear. I love the blues, and I'm listening to them right now. It's Sunday, and I miss my dad. He was born on the 7th and died on the 7th. I am alone for the first time in my life and I never really understood that word until just now. I have dreams and aspirations in which I post on endless websites in hopes that someone will pluck me from the rubble, place my beauty in front of a camera, and sell my soul so I can live. I'm in the system, on the run from the state of Nebraska for leaving the state while still being on probation for a DUI. Don't worry no one was hurt--except my pockets. Now I'm in a undisclosed state and I am out on bail for driving without a liscense. I went to a lawyer, and he told me for $1500 he could get my liscense back and I would have to spend no time in jail. Wow. What a life we live when we chose to live. I've been living for over 10 years, out of mama's house, out of daddy's reach, I am an adult. On the cuff of desperation and desire I work a 10 hour shift in the middle of the night to the top of the morning. But I'm not a man. I'm american, but if you ask the fbi or cia, they'd label me a paper terrorist just by what I speak and what I write. There is no freedoms anymore, just a bunch of people choosing sides saying each one is right. I just want to write, and be paid for my opinions, does anyone have a job with that description? I'd gladly accept about 30 grand a year for it. If not, then I'll just write for those who love the words I place on paper. If you happen to come across this while seaching the net, leave a comment so I'll know I'm alive. Thanks. Peace and Blessings.