Incompatible? So they say some things are.

But even the teeth on a zipper need applied pressure to fit in perfectly.

Compatibility takes work,

just saying.

Ambiguity in mind

I reach inside to scoop out groups of build up.

Throw them on the wall

sit in my chair and twirl my paintbrush

like paint these concepts begin to dry

I kick the seat aside

and add color to all implied

by the lines who were array’s of something

and never had a life.

I’m looking at the presentness,

Tomorrow breaks off like it makes no sense.

Yesterday begins to fade; past tense.

Today will vanish as I engage and not pretend to surf the waves

‘cause I’m actually just riding them.

At this breakpoint awareness has no imagination.

Tomorrow does

and yesterday is misrepresented by shoddy memory.

I leave no room for ambiguity.