Synchronicity

Like a tuning fork and a pitch pipe, we are in sync . . . well, maybe the backstreet boys. Wow, did I say that out loud!? The New Kids Got Run Over By a Reindeer. Look, I don’t know what I’m talking about any more than you do. All I know is that things were blurry where they once were clear. Time is different. I look at my watch and it’s noon, but I look at the clock on the wall and it’s midnight. I think I’m loosing my mind . . . though, “loosing” implies that I had it in the first place. Look, I just need a nap. Then . . . and only then . . . will I be able to regain my synchronicity. So outta here I’m.