3x7 until 37

Lately I feel 

washed up

washed out

not yet

washed away.

The rain is falling.

(It's 37 degrees today.) 

I watch 

my life flash 

I watch

my flight crash

I watch 

algorithmic trash.

(It makes me laugh.)

Every day 

a slog

every thought 

in fog

every person 

a clog.

(In the big bad machine.)

What is it all for?

What do I want to be known for?

Questions to ask

three weeks until thirty-seven.