Mute and terrible, true.
quite unbearable too.
these are the words I am.

Sick of the pace of
Life and the chase of
words that say what I am.

Don't I decide some
words to choose from?
words these are. But I am.

Who knows what all that means. I just felt like I should blog, I've got time to kill.
That's an interesting phrase, time to kill. I'm going to take a stab (no pun intended) at it's origin. Perhaps, way back in the old days of America, when minorities were really the minority, I'd say, during the time of the KKK (and please don't think I side with such bigots), when men didn't have anything to do, they rustled up some minorities and killed 'em. Hence, free time became killing time. I know I'm a terrible person for thinking that, and even worse for saying/typing it, but honestly, who reads this blog anyway?