here’s the thing…

the differences in magnitude on scales forever changing.

Fluorescence from the colliding of atoms rearranging.

They wait for them to die so they can get a better seat,

you never liked opera anyway the flickering’s offbeat.

Is cryptic really worth it when you want to stand connected,

I ask myself while caffeinated, the parts before dissected?

The conscious streaming lullabies when subconscious starts to waken,

denial is the better part of volcanic years unshaken,

and at the end it’s music in a different dialect,

I’m not making sense of any notes but they move me to correct,

the chorus that’s repeating,

the snow instead of sleeting

is the key I’d much prefer,

just add____ ____ and then stir…

microcosm. (title forever changing, subject to mood lighting)

The whole

is broken.

Please

let me stay

wrapped in this sound proof

irony.

Hypocrisy

the non word of the day.

Elitism,

the magic that blurs party lines,

a gift that truly keeps giving

my disgust, validation.

Votes not cast for either.

(Three, is it possible to count to three? I know we can do it. But let’s dream big, let’s try four.)

Can we please just start over.

That look.

The puzzled one where the last piece refuses to be found.

i thought we were talking about the denial of your family dynamic…

Oh. I’ve moved on.

But what I mean is,

I really haven’t…