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Oct 2013
The concept is an Illustration. That defining moment, when you
realize, you can do no more. Nor allow the heart to ever again
take a walk without our mind. My perception co exists with the
fearless barbarians, sent to make amends with the monsters.

The night, is a lonely bandit, stealing away our precious meddling.
Yet here I am. Taking this stroll upon a floor of stars & at free moments,
I skip, and whistle. For I have learned where to go when the rain pours
like milk. When the higher ground is below water. When love descends.

To the mountains for nourishment, by carriage, along the way
cutting trees, to give to the whitest of lights. I desire nothing more then
simpleness. A way of life forgotten, because of unfairness & injustice.
I desire this condemned future, a contaminated element, that our

souls, refuse to show us. I can no longer tell good or bad apart. My
weary eyes, sleepless, toss & turn like cars on the moon.
David Johnson
Written by
David Johnson  Racine, Wisconsin
(Racine, Wisconsin)   
890
 
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