As I write on this bench, my legs grass’ floor, the thought occurs to me, of which I hasten to say more. This shaky thriller’s pen impedes me a bit, though with breath and experience, I may correct the tilt. Ho!, though, Woah! though, as I remember to meditate, but no, Oh, Lo, so, no one is at the gate; and I must refuse my breath it’s bait…for your’s and clarity’s sake.
I see shadows and suspicion, may well be by own natural disposition, paranoia my hateful friend, cousin to a neurotic affliction – A flick of the wrist, a glare of hers and his and my mind creates the competition – A step ‘pon a step, a creak or a click, my mind will generate a thousand boundless dystopic conclusions.
Because hop, skip,
Instead of having ‘answers’ on a math test, they should just call them ‘impressions’ and it you got a different ‘impression’ so what, can’t we all be brothers?
act like everyone is your brother and sister, or maybe an estranged one or one who thinks very differently than you – so if they’re family, treat them as such, not crazy strangers
sister: “everyone’s always looking at the door to see who it is”
sleep dreams lala land spiritual spirit geos off window and goes to a different uplaceniverse for a break from the boyd emotionally physciallt mentallly
take everything for granted but we still respect the time