It was a random tangent,
A thought, an impulse, something as occurring as last Tuesday,
It was indeed I guess a random Tuesday.

My pen, having traveled far
across a good number of them
yet still  I sit somehow unknown,
So quiet I seem
Like somehow none of the words fell out.
Ice cold, like some how the world's I wrote never expressed the blowout,
simpler cut stone, cut to the chase.