Charging through
the open mind
where we find
the clos-ed heart
touching fragments
is where we start.

Answers lost in open books.
Lovers lost.
Are they crooks?

Chasing passions
though the air
from the ground
they've sprouted bare.
We paint them with our tongues alive
and wonder why they quietly thrive.
When we lose them,
we go numb
found not even
by opposable thumb.

Changing clothes:
easy enough.
When "we" claim change
they call our bluff.
To change we must not be the same.
Not impossible
if we act right to blame.
Responsibility must be the wires,
that guide us though,
what negatively transpires.

These fragments
and many more.
Blows to come there are in store,
but swept are shards
of broken life
a better person to become
forgiven strife.

Cast away into higher hands,
thrown away the world's demands.
It's true what they say,
you sow what you reap,
but in this story,
there's blissful sleep.