fine ferret fur gently glides
gulped pigments plummet
down down down
now filthy floor
no more
no more
no.

i need a new hobby.

wind brushed my neck,
and down my spine,
briefly with a kiss.

i fell.

undressed she hums
her blessed hymns.

and gracefully dances
gently across the creek.

catching my breathe
and my world below.

with the opportunity to fly,
heaven-bound with relentless cadence,
over unbound oceans of endless thought,
i still prefer to glance ashore from a shore,
Standing still with normative idealism,
bound to false securities of pragmatism,
and perpetually doomed to drown,
if ever setting foot in water.

ringing in my ears is an audible silence,
a little pious song of impartiality,
begging me to ask who to blame,
if it be unto me or to my peer.

i’ve grown weary to exist,
and ******* at the fear of fact,
to let the truths be right,
and righteous manners be my truth.

the unknowing lends me courageous,
to project out in an audible silence,
proof of my existence in penitence,
but receiving nothing in the way of life.

it is never heard to be unheard.