who will get the eggs?

who will get the eggs when I'm gone?
thinking of my life span
and the heart that beats out of line
concieved on acid
it will not comply or conform
my mind gets bored
my feet itchy
my strain forward top heavy
and my heart beats out of line
alone makes a friend
of the internal 
too many articles
fighting for time
a quiet mind
despite it all
staying still in the midst
and lettting dust settle
and blanket the earth
I lie down
and wonder
who'll get the eggs when I'm gone?


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