I’m A Sad, Lost Little Boy, With A Lot Of Wasted Potential

I get tired. I feel like particular things are tired, but, I never retire. I’m on fire. Always; I don’t know how to turn off the faucet, it overflows all the tyme. I can’t stand the age we’re in per many degrees. Nothing feels variable enough, nothing is ever innovative because it’s all rehash. What is the future from now? Apps? No, there has to be more but, where is it?

It isn’t out west, nor east, it’s never been north or south; I’m very good at audio, but to be innovative there, I have to couple with people and things that are innovative, more innovative than just how I sound, alone?

Who’s listening? Who sees? Who hears? How do you quantify beyond the speculation of the evident, inevitable, and lost?

These are questions beyond my own understanding because I can only become more, and more, tired.

I’m on fire. I never give up. But I remain tired.

I’m a sad, lost little boy, with a lot of wasted potential.

Where am I?

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