Syncopated feet march seasonal beats, sonorous treats for eats to repeat, for minds to appease, the solid wormwood trees. Meaningless? Please, reassess broken knees, inside reminds tapes of the Middle East. No reason treason can pass tres freedoms, some drum, comes dumped on gravestones of Milesia, Thales is better, water becomes cloud, and dust falls down on the Earth that is ground, the grass that is found, the dirt of the mound, rolled up tight like a blunt in the fall, a skunk’s sorely mauled – a soccer mom with pompoms shopping while appalled — their children are forestalled, 19 years in all, I should’ve answered his last call, but I didn’t have the balls, to face what I had scrawled, facing one, we could’ve brawled. Kindness subsumed by incredibly tall eyeballs. Omniscient sensory vision, nuclear fission, precise incision, devise a plan start a religion – speak a pidgin, all these things were possible until Hell had risen. Meanwhile my my decision to embrace Grace's schism reminds me to truly miss 'em. However, instead, I choose wisdom and break bread with vibrational sound systems, because isn't another ism the lock to our prism? Our prison of chasms, microcosms and spasms. Rest unsure if the key is not plasma. Intentions : miasma. Reaction : orgasm. At least we all know dimensions will last from now until forever, there’s never been a tether and Max will live on as smooth as black leather, death did him part in fear of his clever lever-pulling tricks, for kids, his snacks measure, joy, love, friendship, and pleasure. So treasure those traces, the memories in old places, and give him a call in his fourth dimensional spaces.
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