Old rhymes in my purple notebook.

A small tidbit written a year ago after one of my philosophy lectures on Sartre's existentialism. (You rock, Prof. Brown!)


I try to act like I know what I'm saying,
by being the all too conceptual intellectual
I try to advocate, because now it seems we're all too sexual
with our bodies but neglect our sensual brain.
And now the brain waves are becoming ineffectual
in the way that we think, in a world where having
a perceptual state of mind is the only lingual way to communicate.