in decision

It may seem poetic, prophetic perhaps I love the way it cripples me its always the same as it penetrates too far to be able to feel itches so much it starts to hurt but so good, scratching only the mind and without body, one starts to feel enjoying only a beyond, a gone and a never to be magenta itch you only feel to believe but crippled clinging to feelings of a body its only done for yourself its funny how reality always comes harder, how it forces you into being massive amounts of remorse and.... so of just being!!?? so its only in us all to just let go, but we don't know when feels right?? forever afraid to fall, ever just happy to let being, by, live, smile and feel. So we cling. To negatives that are not so then but are as a cumulative just needing to be accepted hurts more than torture itself save for all the smoke

one so few and surely so many time behind a veil only to show itself in perhaps our weakest moments its only a start that i look for in life, I'm always happy to be coming along for the journey but i do wonder where it, i, you started. what do you feel is the beginning ?? have we seen it perhaps. there are many out there within us that feel they have become what is the beginning , and i enjoy their stories, their tales (tails : ) perhaps though still discontented to imagine that i too should not be able to see it you feel it as the itch that sits nowhere and cannot be scratched, you feel it as you see the moon rise over the sun, you hear it when a baby cries and when tears fall, but are we allowed to experience i t perhaps?? suppose that it has gone or was not even for us to know at all? so what then of those that profess, confess and dissolve into our hearts. i believe that we all should, but not always could be allowed, to experience divinity in our lives. now divinity i

so i am told of the beginning of the immortals.. time of thin blood: fragments from the Book of Nod

i don't enjoy this tone but feel that (led by the soft hand of scotch, yes on a Monday ) it is necessary . when you are walking through your street, in a metropolis or not, and you see a gentle soul that stands in your path. you know that this person will be asking you for money, for a donation. they are not a beggar though you feel the need to perhaps treat them with such required indignity. they are not a nameless face as they wear their charity (and heart) on their sleeve. but still, you walk by. this i do not detest. we all live lives that are complex and beautiful at the same time, not always able to co- exist in the present as the future or perhaps the past is seeking to keep a hold on our thoughts. interruption . so we see this person standing before us, in the street, in YOUR path and what do i see most of you doing?? it's like thay have a painted ring of roses on their door, like as a leper you can see their body parts falling from them, limbs dropping from their