Dear is a value to be weighed using full bandwidth
Sakal, show thy self letters ready for measure,
mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, indeed
שָׂכַל
If my need became your need,
we would be in love,
that would really
defeat the use
of preparation, peeling potatoes,
prudence, ever ready to entertain,
pounding clothes down by the riverside,
watchin' babies being washed off and blessed,
שָׂכַל
watchin' life like National Geographic, before TV.
A messenger's whistle, hear
ah
Message to the mass of little looks mira-clues, seen
since who knew when today would continue as today.
Dear Prudence, did we come out to play, as if today,
was one of those times that we all seem to have,
if it could seem alright.
שָׂכַל
Why? Would that defeat the use,
and not the purpose of preparation, final product,
Battlefield Earth, truths uses versus lies uses, us as we
who think it all through
desirable to make one wise
שָׂכַל
when time is not as dear, as an instance in re co gnosis,
- wise was the serpent discerning decision trees.
what would ever make us all think one thought once,
then never think it alone again, we all ways, big all
think this was the way, we walked in,
the same way we walked out, all
set to comprehend wisdom and knowledge and
yada da da da we who work in living once idle words,
our side ways won, when we did not fight,
we never lasted
this long before, but
when we get old, we keep our wits, we got older
sooner than later, so we know more than our dads, too.
- old friends well imagined happy ever after any way,
don't aspire to stave off thermo nuclear war
by your self,
make up a master mind board of suggesters
by your self,
HelloWorld,
with you in a minute,
relationships with dead friends are
deeply personal, core ties to old times, remember
we can hear them say the same damnedlies, or listen,
שָׂכַל
analagous to tuning back when zero beat, was sought
to make one wise, in Genisis, esoteric in the gaps,

hey, old enemy of me, I cannot remember why
I was afraid of you, and never got to know you,

but I recognized your art, the other day,
in an old, old magazine ad, then that leads to
a lost soul I had no sympathy for, I was his bully,

so he's dead and we're okeh, spiritually, we talked,
I told him I had changed, he told me he'd broken,
got busted in Oklahoma, went to prison, for ****,
got religion then went nuts, and I said

I can relate.

I don't know how he died, but we were in situations,
where sixth grade bullying had been forgotten,
when I call this character into my life, as a friend,
mistreated in this mortal moment, laughing ever

at the coincidence we both read Foster Wallace.

we're gonna die at some point
and all that we're gonna leave behind us is a bunch of
bad reviews and 2 star ratings
for restaurants that didn't treat us right,
for uber drivers that were too quiet or too loud,
and airline companies that were responsible for 16 long hours
in an airport with too much light and no air.

the day will come and none of us will be ready,
even though some might lie about it, with a cold smile on their face.
there will be no bargaining then,
all the money in the world will be as useless as a pair of flip-flops to a legless person.
for sure, we'll regret using the expression "no regrets!" too often,
instead of accepting our vulnerabilities and our imperfections.

we're gonna die seeing our mother's smile
and hearing our father laughter,
from the day we were born.
just like then, we won't know for sure whether
this is the beginning or the end
whether we are leaving a world or coming into another.

we're gonna hope to use our last breath for something memorable,
something that won't make us not get a good death's sleep,
keeping us awake in a homemade YouTube video.
we're gonna wish that someone finds all of our passwords
and breaks into our emails and social media accounts to realize that
we were geniuses, or something like that and we're gonna look forward
to not being successful and
not seeing anyone cry over something that we said while we were drunk or, worse..

there's nothing more annoying than a come-back to an argument
that comes too late,
the one great idea that could shut down anyone if it would appear in the middle of a fight,
and not afterwards. always afterwards.
when the quarrel initiators are already tucked up in bed, covered in wet dreams and solitude.
nothing for you to do. no hour is decent enough for you to call them in the middle of the night,
shouting your retort, then hanging up the phone and laughing like a crazy person.
that's how after-death must feel like.
a smart answer that comes too late and that no one gets to hear.

our bodies start dying from the day we are born,
little by little,
small chunks of tissue getting rid of our existence,
making us less appealing, less ripe.
our bodies become dumber and dumber every day and start
throwing emotional **** everywhere, hoping to make others mad,
and not care as much about us, near the end.
in a way, it's a form of protection.

we're gonna live through other people's deaths,
we're gonna be "survivors" and "carriers of their memory"
we're gonna try and appear strong for their closest ones,
even though we will forever be broken on the inside after they
become cool, underground.

as we grow older, we believe that death is more about us than the one leaving.
It's possible that we didn't even get to meet him personally,
but he "left a great impression on us", from his real friends' stories.
it's possible that we randomly cross paths with a funeral cortege of some unlucky stranger
and we would still believe that it's about us.
every time we stumble upon it from an observer's point of view, we cannot stop
thinking that it could have been us in that box,
forceless, incapable of protesting against the tie
or the flowers that we are/were so allergic to.
we get lost in our mind, near the coffin and our eyes start to glow
and lose liquid.
every time someone dies, it's always about us. at least, for a couple of seconds or days.

when we die, or are about to die, we find out that death is not at all about us.
it's about those that are left behind, the above mentioned "survivors".
we begin to worry about them,
to fear that there's no fresh milk in the fridge, no gas in the car tank,
that no one took out the garbage, nor fed the cat,
we are about to leave life under the impression that we forgot the fire on.
every time we die, it's never about us. at least, up until the last seconds.

there's no chance in hell that heaven's gonna accept this kind of language!
maybe the subtitle won't work for this part and I'll get off the hook.
I was thinking that one of the greatest penalties
God could give to a feeble-minded person like me
would be the possibility to choose between the infernal region and paradise.
I would end up in a very familiar situation, experiencing the purgatory of my afterlife,
in the same way I did in my entire earthly existence, not being able to pick a side,
make a decision, take a left or a right.. without overthinking it too much.

we're gonna die crying.
we're gonna die hoping that we closed the door.
we're gonna die tasting coffee.

we're gonna die when we least expect it.
we're gonna die in 3, 2..

we're gonna die trying to live.


[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CVemwwIDC7c]

From a rating of one to ten
I say ***** it
You're tired of being used and objectified and i'm not renewing it
I just do that with my library books
I'm not going to dangle you on a hook
And take you out
I'm going to make sure you have the best out there possible
Which is hopefully me
I'm not here to waste your time
I'm here to make it worth your while
I can't allow, 24 or even 26 hours
I'm going to need all 28 hours of the week

Soon I will get far

Beneath our footsteps on a long shore,
The sand is soft and promising
And there she is
A beautiful muse
Waiting for me like there's no fear
In the world
Looking forward for challenges