One previous owner.
Two ears, used... not only capable of hearing but also listening.
Two shoulders to support a weary head... waterproof.
Two arms to carry, support and protect.
A heart that knows both empathy and care. (slight damage)
A mind, complete with experience and blank space to learn anew.
Packaging a little battered but in working order.
Must be willing to take as complete set.
Listing period... indefinite.

I sing an ancient song.
In voice once loud though now less strong.
The melody and chorus though of my own
To everyone at times is known.
In happiness yet louder in times of fear.
The question of why "I" am here.
The songs refrain passed along the line,
deluded that all its answers be mine.
But as has gone from times before,
The song will play for evermore.

Are the bandages put away?
The stitches removed?
Has the scar healed over?
Has your mind reconnected?
Does your heart beat with regular thump?
Have tear ducts stopped erratic behavior?
Yes?
Then you are ready to fall in love again... good luck.

I live in the darkest of places,
it is here that I constantly dwell
Some would call it empty,
but to me its name is just hell.

So rare is there anything,
that enters here into my night.
But every so often I am tortured,
by glimpsed reflections of light.

I watch as light approaches,
feel its warmth inside of me.
Giving rise to both dream and hope
and the promise of things that might be.

I watch as light passes,
and bathe in its radiant shine.
Thoughts voiced by madness,
I look to the light for a sign.

As it draws nearer to my existence,
and knowing what I need it to be.
The light always unerringly diverges,
I now aware the light just didn't seek me.

I sit and remember the lights,
here in my own black little shell,
I look all about me at darkness,
knowing that light wont ever want hell.

Sons of Belial and sons of

whatever is riding the wave of re
ality crosswise carrying
other kinds of whats
so ever
in an umph-epiphanny-trypac,
while balanced on the very
edge
of eternity, sharper than any twoedged everthought,

twixt soul and spirit,
is never
more confusing than now.

whe-
never was, a long, long, doppletop,
oweroath, a cutcoven (blood'n'all)

mental, mental, nothing is real, it's
a project

some kinds of ideas are working in re
ality,
like sci-fi, back in Hubbard's day,

crazy is owned by Patsy, in my mind
and I was not sixteen,

not like you thought. K'oughtcha.
I was fifteen

Historical ideas come in sub
kinds. That's new. Wow works here as a word
denoting proper awe,

that's good, after wattwe done t' awesome 'n' awful.

======
Time kinds of ideas differ in classes and speeds.

======
Balancing and Valencing equivalency ideas,
at the core are gravitational
deter
meaning ful syn chro no ifity ness, aside.
did that make sense?
it might.

might not.

sensibility evaluation, aha. It's here in this set
of kinds of
ideas we all thought possible.
Boo Yah'll 'n'all that..

=====
That peace past standing up under knowing
good and evil and allaboth atthat,
that
peace past real under standing, that

True rest, trust me. Winning right is worth

the effort to play the game. But I learned too late.

======
loser ideas, innumb-mersable fixet functions, not
ideas at at all, states inwaiting attributable

to the whole one feels not part of, a wheel in
the blind
watchamacallit maker's shoppe o'kurios 'n' kachinas

wheels in wheels in belts and straps and beams and nails
and stones
and chisels...

this could be the grave, we can see
it's empty.
Where's my body gone? Aha. Y'know, y'know it's about

time is all. No lie lives forever. Yet
any word once yoost to lying
may be deemed phor
worthy of all we agree to let be in it.

--- flash--- we had eight in a 55 vw, to sneak into the drive
in, drunk on somebodies seventeenth birthedays---

We interupt this broadcasting process from time to time

to stock new seedy ideas, re
deemed worth repeating,
doubletap oath idea from old sicilian proverb untwisted.

Score. Sorry, I thought. You were reading. If you got this far,
you call the winner. But the score remains
a hist oracle idea of a very old kind.

The metagame was won in time.

I tripped over love
Losing my balance twice,
Maybe the next time

Do you see clear the coast at hand.
And know the side to which you stand.
Are your feet safe in the sand.
Or do you flounder in the waters band.
Is your strength firm on the land.
Or will sea hold sway through its command.
Will you follow the seas demand.
Or pull for shore with oars all manned.
To steer the course that life has planned.

Are you strong enough each and every day?
Are you forever strong enough to keep the dark away?
Can you control your mind and remember how it is you're made?
Can you keep the dark at bay even when you are totally afraid?
Do you function in a way so that people cannot see?
Do you operate as the world expects that you are meant to be?
Are things hidden from the eyes of those who love and care?
Are you able to cope when those who matter aren't even aware?
Can you keep enough of you to win the battles that you must?
Can you in-spite of everything remember how to trust?
Do you enter every day just planning to survive?
Do you get to sunset and feel joy or sadness to be alive?
Are you able to carry on through a thick darkness that numbs?
Are you able to face the familiarity of tomorrow when it comes?
Can you see the conception of things that give rise to hope?
Can you maintain focus as you are riding down your *****?
Do you live a life where you ask yourself these things?
Do you feel its all the same no matter what tomorrow brings?
Are you able to support as I deal with things how they seem?
Can I do all I can to face my incessant internal scream?
And......
Do I have the strength to hang on to everything I dream?