in the backyard
lighting up a smokescreen
high on all the thoughts
of what once was and could have been

filled to the brim with these emotions
but i don't feel a thing
how tiring it is to always think so much
and still remain the same

Too little may I imagine I an=
swore to code I am
aware bound by
oath, or tack of declared variables, awaiting

suffering now
to be
so
as we find it,
seen as
it appears, random as hell.
Who could imagine that, accurate?

When we spend a free lifetime
of some new
creature formed
in worded being, some
thing and, now named, this as that
name as one, is this
that?

Ever yes, exuberant yes, wir sind, nach einmal…

once again, a gain, immeasurable, but for the
truth unreal numbers may contain,

entertain
the great notion, on my mind
since the Weavers were as likely red as ever
in the grand
signals of edges, approaching everchange
interchange
looping four leaved no-stop flow packeted
info crossed-roads, six-lanes over four
or a roundabout, as in olden time town centers
before town squares and malls to anchor off ramps

any random series of events, fit it in the mind
driving
80 feet per second, steady, not
like falling per second per second to splat
slow lane, fast lane is 125 feet per second, in Texas

ha, giant leap for man mind, accept the
obvious,
flat out
matter is not all there is, even here.

Time traveling
Unraveling
The love
That's dug
Its way
Inside my memories.