My best friend wrote this poem, won’t you comment with a poem you wrote too?

Once I saw the world as a vast and suffering bowl of scrambled eggs, unfortunately I disdain scrambled eggs, but I can handle scrambled eggs confused or mixed with cheese, ahh maybe a tinge of salt. 
Now I am dealing with the dilly-dally death and the sovereign oncoming of the street sadness. So I measure beauty with a broken candle stick and soak up my insanity with a hangover and a casual sponge. 

Dave Miler-

Millertime messages 

Fall 1993 

Christian poet philosopher- Wig Wam maker 

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