Inspi-ration
forms of my inspiration and to inspire, as well.
My 70% continence is never skimmed.
My thoughts and heart speak of sympathetic and optimistic reparation, to the addict,
too scared or too rebellious. Too blind, too young to fight out of the catch net.
My circle of care could be the knife to dash the thread.
To offer, selflessly, the knowledge that there is a bigger, more potent drug.
A high that the masters write about.
A removal of the rough skin, through self respect.
A love. I do. I aspire to shine the flashlight down the dark, grime filled drain pipe.
Aspiration.
Direction. Directly, like the solace in attainment of the best thing I’ve ever known.
Adoration; reformed, rekindled, and united again through a creation of our day…
a ‘space’ that I spend hours within. Liegerly. Luverly.
It pleases the mind.
Elements of soft, cranial conducive pockets, like the warm barrel I crave,
lay embedded, with their myriad of colors and contrast against the lighter light;
contrasting. Simple light on light is piece of mind. Elegant.
Even I don’t like the white spears guarding suburbia.
Not all colorful things comfort. Stuck in a coulrophobic, twisting, bozoic, bizarre parade, at times.
They make me giggle when I know I should be wide eyed and not make a sound.
They turn my stomach.
I have caught and acknowledge mortality’s dice. Though, snake eyes are foreboding. I hold two more, and in some cases, 1+1 can equal 3.
Interesting equation: (H2O+H2%) = whole.
Anyone can talk the talk as I have and do. I fear the walk and its unknown path, though
my shoes fit quite well. Addition to life of my life is a wonder…and I wonder.
Though the future unknown is formidable, I know that not knowing is far worse.
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