tokens of thankfulness
gratefulness
appreciation

understanding
or attempts to

when every try
brings them closer to knowing
and every effort
pulls you closer to them

that's the only place
you want to be
close
and safe

being reminded
what you have
and if you have that

never let it go
be thankful
be grateful

tears of joy are okay

I spy with my little eye
Everyone and all
The faintest smile
The subtlest sign
Everything strange and worrying
And all that is normal
Perhaps too normal

And don’t feel scared
It’s in your best interest
That wicked smiles
And dangerous signs
And everything strange and worrying
Is brought under attention
Of people you can trust

And don’t ask yourself
Who is watching the watchmen
With wicked ways
And subtle methods
It’s better to sit and relax
And act normal
But not too normal

AI, Moon Walk X"lll"X 15=10 and 5*


https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL1X51wyhBF7_aJvUdzE0qYPRaJMuBnn0l

Moments notice, temporal  sign posts,
shifted meanings and twigs of broken memories all standing stark,
as white lights of embers glow, slow to realize the masses continue to wonder.
Eyes blazing in the giggling realizations uncanny calling out,
of the in between, as many of us glean and glimpse.

Have you oh wondering soul heard? have you oh simple soul seen?
If so what is it you have grasped of this altered edge of oblivion? fair the a well spring of signs to set your heart and mind free?
Or only to cast your gullet into eternal slavery, under the cutting reality of a cemented view?
Flowing edge of the swells this temporal cascading do cause the light do play in the reflections truth of stability abound in focus and vibratory standards , counted and measured only in the minds eye and the hearts manifestations of excepted adherence to a collective?
Or have you , or I , us sad and amazingly fickle souls found the true sound of sound doctrine?
One of truth , love and understanding? For seems this dear hearted friend, is far from the end, though not the beginning unless the glimpse of it has been felt and rendered assured in your own heart, least we get ****** again from the very, very distant pasts start.
So, it is asked yet again, where do we stand in this torrent and gelatinous time of man? Or shall we start all over again and wonder how tech can strip and manipulate the core and essence of a man and his absolute grasp of what is changeable in our entire past?
Or is it merely and simply just that we are all on the very edge of our dreams in this construct of a thing?

My lips on wine, my mind on you,
sip
      sip
            sip
My mind on wine, my lips on you.
sip
      sip
            sip
Intoxication pure and sweet,
I drink it deep.
With my lips on you
                         my mind with you
                                             my whine in yours,
a sweet elixir
we drink deeply.
Intoxication.

Never been there.
Can't talk about it much.
I've seen shadows on the wall.
Crying faces in my dorm hall.
I've seen reflections of friends
in the communal toilet while they Puke-TSD.
Can't talk about it much.
It's not a subject I like to touch.
Never been there.
Never talking like I've seen it all.
They have. Ask them what it's like to fall
down and check your face for scrapes
and have other people put band-aids
on your ***. ("Oops, my mistake!")
Or better yet, don't.
Don't ask me.
Don't ask them.
They can talk.
I've never been.

If they ask, you can answer with the voice of a friend.
But don't ask. Don't reopen the PTSDen
of pain and the past. Just listen if they ask.
Have some ******* courtesy till then.