Whispers-on-accord.
And the cypress tree caresses the breeze and teaches us in ways of migration.
The Insects of Actuality of every angle.
And I can name an old friend like an old pen name and they remind me of those too.
Surely, and burly is indeed the one redeeming themselves in the name of pen.
Stone the fury that casts its judgement in 10s.
What’s your favorite number?
Don’t have a favorite color?
Makes sense why I can see ya =]
Something stupid like that.
Was all I’d fancy myself to,
Growing up these past 50 years.
I started working day in day out from day 1.
And the only real highlight has been rest.
Getting to the point I can WFH.
Instead of some other smelt-spelt like feeling
Of hiding another trip to the bathroom.
Breathing with mudras to ascertain my murmur dead-drops.
Put on the lo-fi.
I can’t hear and all they want is party.
Embarrassment in my own espionage.
Some american-gal and unknown-boy.
Another hit, another target.
And the newer generation is getting closer to our secrets.
Spill the milk.
Just do it.
And they didn’t even think the breadcrumbs were worth something.
Claim your heritage and not know the war is won and something dismal inbetween
A kingdom of 3, and the ongoing battle rages.
The Old Heads
Seem to have gotten sick.
With themselves, with everyone.
All our blows and woes and the people I cared enough about to get angry,
Let alone purposefully-fuck-over at every corner and turntable until my life was stripped from me in agony of a club I don’t pertain to.
Parts or Power, I don’t give a fuck. Please give me my money I worked so hard for.
Oh that’s woman-chatter.
And yapper on will your home-life before the bar closes.
2am is early for the likes of people like me.
An awkward time to give up.
The height of patrol, I remember those days too.
Arresting those that we could arrest ourselves for.
And I partied into peer-pressure.
What else to do but admit insecurity.
A life well-lived.
And the grow-up part past contract, doesn’t seem abstract.
Doesn’t seem truthful to say I’ve faked my whole life when I’m not changing a thing about my abode.
The clothes I bought are the clothes I carry and wear.
I’m just combining them in a less-lame way.
Feel dressedup.
Say goodbye to excursions.
The flare-up turned to silence.
After feeling so good for less than a month or two.
Carry the few.
It’s all I really got going for me these days.
Old or 24.
Crunchtime.
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