I’m writing You,
And Now you’re reading it;
This is a mid-morning luxury:
The wall, the new empty wall and subway rocket,
Groove lines, syllables and gestures for the funny century,
Joke glyphs amongst primal faces painted.
Smoke words begin to tease candlelight intertwining.
Swift it is again evident, fatter and more plausible every time;
Tender and thinner and more sleek and toned;
You have done good things but you don’t hear it.
You have been in danger and have miraculously survived,
So Go You with your daring point of view –
Getcher mission on, er, pursue it and its massive ALL.
Lock those arms around it. Everyone just wants to laugh.
The young illuminate defiant acts. This is a connection you can achieve Now: Thinkers, having grown, having experimented, are relaxed.
It’s a rough road; it beats your face vacant but if you get past it your eyes begin to glow and, you know, you recover…it’s a simple intricate, again a course a yogi away:
Him reading a list of Her terms;
Him utterly unique.