In drifts the conflicts of the mind,
were it mine.
Tried, tested, digested.

New era, new dawn.
Same moon, long gone.

Not all death is dying.
Some goes on living.

Split splat, emotional rat.
Fine, pine, conveyor belt mime.

Hit’s hardest a ton of feathers.
Chokes deeply, all the fresh air.

Clearly, there is blush in your vision.
Merely a dreamstate nightmare played at low volume.

Disagree, all my younger notes.
Blast your last human burp, falling elegantly down the throat of father time.
Here you see me paint a monument blue, covered by the sands of time.
Now I am the man, who counts time, and tenders wages upon the memories.
Go now ghouls of the night, that come in emphatic tones.
Bleed darkly, into your soul. Punctured by blessings you choose to let go.
Harm the hand of joy, in the fires of turpitude.
Building a stone temple, to the minds eye with ladders of glass, tearing the flesh of a younger man. Turn my bones into the fruits of a mountain of trust, built by the drawings of calmer ways.

Heat my home, hear my stories, feel my stone.
Watch as a boulder breaks in two.