Mingy Jelly

Justice is rarely just, but your troubles give me grace. A deserved downfall for a deserved treatment for a deserved action. Eye for an eye, while your eye is laid out on a bronze platter.

Your falsehoods have come to overthrow your dream, the climax of your crest. The lack of realization is no match for fate’s payment, dues is always due my dear.

Life’s envelop is affectionately glued to your heart, humorous tales for your pseudo cohorts. Notice your permanent state of solitude with the only devotion from your own hand. Even your forebears forage to freedom, nobody is here.

Stay or run, there is no accord. They nod at your pain, while looking away. Eyes wide shut, with mouths wide open, why do we know you? The character, the ride, the liar, the forged, the storyteller, the paltry worm. Crawl deep inside, for there you can live amid your loyal minions.

Double Redrum

I wish I could have bloomed in your projections, but instead it was only you that you could see. Me was distant thoughts from your memory, an affection put to death.

After years of fermentation, dreams of you still flow inside. I wonder if my thoughts have any truth to current authenticity. In our meetings, is there are genuine sensitivity for me, “the one.”

Nothing else matters, except for every breath and every dressing on our stage. Everything else matters as you became the absconder, even today you are a mirage of my crown.

If only we could be strangers again, would time have purged all wounds. Would you write to me on a napkin with testaments that would continue until our Notebook parting? Would the days weep into nights, into new days as we age beautifully into life’s turn?

For how I miss you. How I miss the life dream that never was and the life that could have been. Every moment missed is every moment I cherish. Nothing else matters.

Grasp of Grandeur

Magnanimous moniker at mirth’s mercy. Inner chuckles as my own misfortune fortune of tales, leading me into the lengthy walks of survival.

The push and pull of limitless adventure, with all paths leading to the wrong ending. The right is the righteous and the perceived wrong is the chosen path. Getting lost in the dream state war of love and loss, when nothing was truly lost.

The wormhole of experience is the breach to your truth. The falsehoods of false, without hurt of pain, become the burden of wander. Are you laughing at the amount of ridicule and ridiculous? They are laughing at you, laughing at your imagination.

Walk freely my children, brothers and sisters. For you are not the limited, instead the correct ending of pleasure and perfection. Freedom fighters of participation and exposure, with growth into the unbound plains of sweet fruit. Grasp sparingly and you will find peace.