Where do all the missing socks go?

I think human memory is quirky, complicated, and unreliable. I have a problem with socks. I never remember what, where, why and how. They’re always an odd number; meaning there’s always a pair that misplaced the wifey or hubby. Yet, where do all the missing socks go? Sometimes, in my life, I have this feeling that I’d like to go there and stay there forever. I … More Where do all the missing socks go?

POEM: Morality

i don’t drink, i say, oh, so what are you Mr. Nice Guy? neither do i smoke i retort, nor do i fancy bums shaking around me, they wonder and humiliate, try to asunder my esteem, it’s friday nine p.m, campus rowdy like it’s closing time, no it’s time to rave, get high than a … More POEM: Morality