~Directional
Worth~

I've been up and down these rows,
Of the same 'ol shit that everyone knows.
But don't take it
for a second.
I've got time to kill
right now.

Flea is just an analogy.
Two cents too
broken
glass.
and curious curios of the past.
And still they barter
for trash
and treasures,
thats forgotten
the past
and the present

I've dutifully asked.
And still no answers.
But still I ask,
to keep me in

sane, without direction.
My life in constant introspection.
I'm a dime
for the table,
and barter
me from a quarter.
My two cents 'til the end.
I've been promised gold, and silver...
But I settle for tin.

I can truely admit now...
I'm a flea market failure.