Stone-Ground Garnish

Ditsy eras that problem solve as if the end of the sentence was a death threat to any spark of creativity, and I’m the one cooling my brain cells.

I keep noticing silly little nuances where there’s cracks of light.

Crack the whip,

and my tolerance has gone to shit.

Snooty little paradigms, because I’m the snotty girl.

I’ve been told.

Something that never forgives and always poses into this… wonderful sense of relaxation. If one were to wish to call it that.

If it catches your attention. If it has me feeling a certain way and suddenly I’m sitting closer to you. My whisper, amplified.

New ways after sojourn that wasted my time, and I’m digging up whatever I wish to like an archaeologist in search of their favorite dinosaur.

Who doesn’t fucking love dinosaurs?

Who doesn’t love the late nights, where you don’t know what you want to do.

But what is to do – is an answered question. I didn’t do those things anyway!

And the things I wouldn’t do. Take a break. Take a walk. Take one off.

And suddenly supreme serene, silly little bean.

Stuck in my chair, and my hair still is fumigating in process.

A silly little ode, to the expression of those that came before me.

Carry on their legacy in the humble ways that soothe and nourish.

A sense, a growth.

I get to be a dead beat.

Even for just a moment, I get to settle into my grime. My, must I tell you; it is oh, so relaxing.

Staccato like, with every beat felt.

Temperate doesn’t exist in this zone.

And somewhere in like lillies in a scented humid heat, follow the ways of old.

Inspire me Greats!

Calling for you, and calling for you again.