Says Who?

Well, I guess some would say, well they may say it's none of your business. Others, mainly kin to you, proper on not, may say it is. However, I m telling you it ain't. Furtive as you are, I m onto you in a way your Momma wasn't, say when you were 13 or so sneaking out of the house to going to do who knows what with fuck knows who. I slide past those monarchs, past those lazy day trippers with nothing short of a brilliant trajectory toward liberty you claim you want to know, nay be IN. I know whats your business and I ain't it, nor is my secret soul hush that you want infect with your crude stereotypical harshness; your harshness about life, limb and the ability to exude exactly as you should with no after thought of the perception of the other. That's the business. That's the vast well known secret of the few in the forest and the negated surreptitious strain of ya'll. I know your sad eyes and long nefarious tale of borrowed woes. I know you want me to open it. I know you want me to yoke up with you and tarry this sad sack with you, but you know I m tired, am seeking gainful salvation in a face of brutal shape shifting fallacy and I won't tread on your trip proper to your Mecca of man made, so please, with cherries on top, don't fucking intrude on mine. My Momma DID always say "It's none of your fucking business."