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If I ever see an empire crumble,
It would be the hands of the future peons that would have to rebuild, then re-brand themselves into the eyes of their mothers and fathers, prove that nothing is possible when accomplishing the past standards, who's to say what is the better path, I've paved new ways treading on the hopes and dreams I have thought wrong, there are stress fractures writin on the faces of friends, they lose their battles judging values vs. Life,
I am neutral within the chaos of laws, trying to read the signs with eyes closed,
It's a free fall without me behind the wheel, who is going to lead the band of the deaf, blind, and mute soldiers, forsaken once the war is over, they have no presence to offend their normal counterparts, I'm inbetween handing them money or a gun, neither will do them well, let them select, let them be, bow before the relinquished blood ties, observe each noble pursuit add a dawning crown
Talking is cheap, it's past the expiration date of acceptable emotions, stuck in a frenzy of confusing texts, play by plays repeating what we missed and why we missed the call, message tones begging to break the ice, a layer so thin yet none will take the step,  fearing the cold heart will stop what love we have found, so the answer goes unheard, the one grasping for unity waits for...

A placement holder on the finger that is filled with scrutiny and assumptions, genders are to follow suit, it's required to lose any self bond commitments, like the knots tied to keep your feet in the shoes once the string breaks they are not the same, to argue that the world will change with how we flaunt our success, this is a lie that is just covered up by ignorance and obliviousness, teach these hands to hold the love given not a tool that can be forgotten...

Among the ever revolving acts that led us here, there is a convenience in the unknown, yet there is proof that the next few sentences have been said before, not that we could find the time to be proven right, the science breeds the faith of the truth, it cannot be explained as a simple loop, but complex numbers separated by breaks in a negative and positive force, once the connection has been made new and old become the same picture, sleeping in water feels similar to floating in air, fear not the breath that with surely remove us from existence, nothing was there in the first place, because when it is found we call it a miracle, a simple mistake to the insomniac with no dogma, something is not enough to be real, could it be wrong, yes, experience does not change this, even when fueled by the favor of people deemed crazy, who really thinks such things when alone.
Please comment, please message, my curiousness would like to know you add you are.
If there is no sound there will be a guidance of breathing exercises, gently rocking our over worked minds,
It is to take no offence in sleeping during routine check ups, our eyes could also use the rest, but listening is unavoidable and it will find you in the silence,
Seeps into your eardrums and upset the peaceful balance
This is a reworked(meant to be read not heard) opening for a new spoken word  poem I've written, let's hope I can perform it!
She steps onto the cloud with the air holding her up,
"What are our dreams but that what we wish for"
Her leg kicks outward and up forming a line bringing puffs of cloud with it,
"Do you wish for the dance or the dancer?"
Though light was unnoticed before it now breaks casting shadows along her body,
"Some dreams aren't lead by the brain"
She begins to spin curling and bending the clouds to her will,
"Some dreams come from the heart"
Her hand reaches out for a moment as though to grab a cloud,
"Are we able to merge our dreams with our dance?"
Retracing her movements the light seeps into her hand forming and orb,
"I will remember the dance"
She grasps the orb with both hands and raises it to her head,
"I will love the Dancer"
I have no idea where we are in this crazy world but if you remain within my mind you will never be forgotten and will never be far from my heart, which is a door open for you as long as you dream of it
It is time to change the way things are, scratch that smell from our noses, like **** in a bottle chucked out the window while going 90,

The free fall fogs up the glasses on a blushed face, 40oz till we down the sound of crying,

Lie across the ocean
Lie across the land
Send truth over and watch it slip through the cracks,

Breached news of frustration calls "Canada is coming, what the **** is America doing,"
We do our best to travel against all odds, piloting a spoon made of silver into a greedy pocket originally meant to feed those eating mud pie, baking in an ever dying sun as fish float up to the surface,

Choking down the salt water to avoid drill, give them a gun instead, it will protect our false memories and concocted purpose,

This was paid for by ink soaked bones working in minimum oxygen to the brain, featured on rolls of film stripping off clothes covered in lust,

Taking hold of a crowd with merely this voice, conducting an audience with bed knobs and broomsticks, rhythmically grinding the **** awry, taste this sun from the lips of a fairy, mystical or not we were there to receive,

Open our hearts via chaos trained messages, massaging back pains to the point of tears, electromagnetism therapy causing the lights around the dance floor to flicker, moving at incomprehensible speeds relating colors between points B to Z,

On numbered grids the scale is curved to fit the description of another one biting the dust,
And as we finally rest on cold stones the Panic sets in.
I've not written enough words to be ignored yet,
Between the heel and cuff you'll still find me speaking,
If my book is to long than let me break it down,
If you can't read step outside and hear my verbs on the wind,
If I write to much for you to handle quit now while my poetry is short.
Amidst the chaos
and confusion thrives magic
and dark illusions
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