rolling? stoned?, or, get over it sheila

so sue me
you stuck, luck has it
me, in a rut
to rot, by chance
in a rolling log
that gathers
the moss
of memories

i'm moving
but not on
though i know
there is no
trophy
in atrophy

so let me
stick
my thumb in
the plum pudding
the freshness
of best new breasts
heaving to
a whole new
breatheee