Something exciting

I enjoy typing straight in to this box:
There's a series of keys
I often press
that delete everything
and the longer I go on
The closer it gets.

I daren't edit myself
just in case I find them.

I wonder what the clouds are thinking.
I query how the limping dog
lost its fourth limb
and when the third is due
to go.

I wait at the bars
for the old rambling men
to keel over 
as their hearts 
have a little pity on the rest of us
and give us some room.

Maybe a newcomer
will walk over
and start mouthing impossibilities
at me,
hoping to come off tops,
but placing me in the only seat
in which I win, everytime.

Maybe, I'll just sit here
thinking about the same thing.
How we keep on going
without promise,
and how that is the way.

Maybe this will be gone
as I find those magic keys again,
or maybe it will stay
and you'll be the poor fucker
who has to read my brain-vomit,
again.