The Beat

It's in chest. Some kind of ... errata waiting to be revved. And yeah a respin could be costly and maybe ... maybe the sun won't drop a shadow like that again. Amazing the diffusion at 93 million miles. Give or take a quark. So yeah. You can try and fade into a bush. And wake up and stay with the dream. Or you can see it for that it is. What it is...   And forget the ruckus upstairs. Always moving ovens. Don't wait for it. Make it.

Premise

Once a rock. Turned into a badge. Attempted Othello. And for what? You may see the rain right as it comes upon you. You may even catch it in your eye. But you won't know how long it'll stay. Nor yet if it brings you any tea and crumpets.  ...               fear is an unruly devil. Make you believe that you believe. But just brush strokes and lines of heat. And therein lies the frailty. Smoke. Mirrors. And miles of painted desert. That you leave the ocean. That you clock yourself docile on a rock. That you pull the cabbage by the head. As a ship indeed.

But not all is unreal my friend. Not all is of supposition, distraction, and unguided missiles. No. Heresy today is indeed truth tomorrow. But if you can't make it tomorrow, you may never know. Put down the torch. Pull out some mallows. And come, show your self a little patience.

Non-Pseudo Cousinry

They're amazing really. All very different. All bloody amazing. Not like others, you know. Really not at all. Barely known and yet, blood. So close to your hopes. Connected. A times the hip. Attacking from both sides. Sitting in the library. Road trips. Playing the guitar.  Hiding in a cubby. Climbing to your death. Scaring the masses. Running down toads. Pulling trucks. Single letters. I'm not sure they make quivers for crossbows. Course, the chittlins wouldn't appreciate that, but the best there is. Faults. Flaws. Doubts. Losses. Smart remarks. Yes. But they are mine. And of them I am proud.

The pseudo too.

Into the West

If you follow the street to the right, it may amaze you were it will take you. Invisibility cloaks. Lost digits. Dragons. A dream of everyone. But they aren't real. Not what is out there. Not what is intended. Not what you can control. There are gifts. Ways to live. Things to forgive. Unfinished? Inconsistent? Sure. Does it really come as a surprise? No, you're thinking of it wrong again. Does it really come as a surprise?... When was the last time you had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? So, you can cry September mirror. That you can do. Or even mourgeless codnuggets, for that matter. But what does what get but in a sea of distillery. Faking all and drowning you in the end. No, hop out and get you some warm dry clothes.

Rest Assured

You can't very well have one without the other. T'isn't fair really. And so you do end up spending some late nights. And some of those require a lot from you. But some of them end aimlessly wandering and admiring all around you. And some of them end with frisbee in the parking jam. Let's not be buying so many high priced goods. Worth nothing in weight nor in packaging. Pretty as the day is long. Rotten as the depths of hell.  No. There are things better. I have seen them. And again. So hear Florence. Give someone out of place a shot. Listen. And good.

There is beauty.