The further away we may wander,
the closer to the heart our olden days become
the people who welcomed us
the places we danced
the music that still lingers in the air
with the love of a dream still shared...

The further away we may wander
we love each new adventure
never knowing where the road may lead
but we will always fondly look back
to the many homes our hearts have known
and wish upon wish to share our adventures
and roads with the people who celebrate our joy...

The further away we may wander,
we come to realize
places are meant to be left behind
but the smiles and loves we found there
will forever be part of who we are

I came along to a road block on route 33
there was no traffic so I just rode my electric bike on the shoulder
I saw a lot of debris and blood on the road
the cops weren't paying attention, so I went closer
It appeared to be what was left of a man
or a bunch of ground meat with what appeared to be a whole eyeball

with an actual eyebrow

and a shoe

to me, it looked like a left eye

police came running at me and had their hands in their weapons yelling at me to get back

I panicked a little and about rode right through the meaty matter

I made it just a few meters away before I heard them closing in

I got on the ground
the one with a voice yelled at me
he said something about human remains

I started laughing so diabolically that the voice stopped
I'm thinking to myself...

"and I can't go around?"

I laughed continuously and uncontrollably for a good 10 minutes

I must have totally lost my mind this time

I hope so...

I hope so

when I got home later that day, someone told me that they found Kenny dead today

in the middle of route 33

I started snickering...

I broke out into a cackle

I laughed so hard, for so long, that it became very painful

I couldn't stop

my best friend had went through something dreadful

I still say that it didn't look like his eyeball and left eyebrow

then again
who am I to say what another man's eyeball and left brow would look like

on top of a pile of meat and blood..

and one shoe

Bahahaha
ouch
oh the agony!

this is serious

this is not sweet insanity

Perhaps inspiration is the problem.
I have always danced with words.
Blending syllables and wit
Bending sentences at will.
Firing ink from a loaded pen.
Makes for good imagery.
As I flap the pages of this notebook.
Dropping tiny daggers with this tongue.
Trying to master the craft of symbolism.
With sarcasm.
Playing with these words like hooked on phonics.
Molding them into a scene.
Of play on words.
With less drama.
Maybe even worth less.
Like pay-less.
As we walk in eachothers shoes.
To better understand the roads we travel.

in a world of glitter and tinsel
we are two visions of mori butterflies,
whose larvae eat the darkness of the night
like a white mulberry tree, leaving holes of light
on the forgotten silky roads.