Empty streets my city the night.

A day well spent but promises kept, so word to page.  

Of what? Where, shape or form?

Inspiration from memory.  

Can I really do this?



The time was so soon ago,

that chronos’ amber sphere and silver drop,

felt doubly in their passing.  

And yet age did come,  

but without its wisdom,  

for no lessons were learned from stupored mistakes again repeated.

Conflict, my male mind. How can the very same not realize its opposing wishes?

Happiness found penetrating, short-lived.

The lonely Sunday of bachelored men, unused-day, headache lowly buzzing.



Was it bargaining? The soul destruction of hated labors balanced again by goblin and hob?

Never before hated, nor treated as such, the pain entering all the deeper.

I had some fault for sure, but so? Such extent?

Still, moons passed, and atoms parted, nagging in the recesses. Why?

Now can be lensed the downward spiral, not balance but equalized decline.  

So clear, so close, so me.  

And yet so right it felt and yet it calls on occasion, a smile from the right sort, some addictions remain entrenched, but because I want them to be. But do I? Should I? It won’t hurt surely?



But this is no sad tale of tendencied poet. FINALLY change.



A foiled attempt at running that meant success.  



Thank god for her.  

Upwards growth all from a secret within  

And where were you when the need musted?  

All from a secret within.  



Do these words paint a picture?  

Am I a bespectacled hipster speaking to a coughing audience?

Just practice. Read this years down the line and laugh.

A secret to remain

Or share?

Giv' it a go  

Who knows?

Art by Godin’s definition but will it connect?

I want to find out.com