There are three clocks in my house,
One has been stuck at 3 forever,
One got stuck at 8 this morning,
There's only one that's running,
Is  5 minutes late,
And I've got friends who can't wait

Death takes many forms.
He can be harsh and cruel and cold
Or kind and merciful.

He takes people away,
Usually when the time comes.
Sometimes, the people even gave their permission for him to take them away.
Some even initiated it. Some were unaware of it.

Those were the ones that he truly mourn.
He mourns the absence of a bright-eyed child
In such a deep dark world.

For when the death knell strikes twelve,
A new world begins.

He watches as others try
to manage without the one taken away.  
He watches as they try and save
The ones that were taken away.
He watches as they call upon divine intervention,
Going so far as to ruin their lives,
Just to give the ones they love a second chance to live.

He wanted to wipe their warm tears away.
He wanted to hug them and feel as the fight in them went out.
He wanted to take them away to a faraway place where they won’t hurt no more.
But it was not time for him to do so.

He waits until the end of time.

He is inevitable and yet he waits.

He may strike suddenly, but still;

He waits.

I'll send out
A newsletter
For you
And you alone
With pictures
Of me
And the dogs
And the fish
And the things
We once
Might've shared
If only you
Weren't hiding
In Colorado
I know
I put
The blame
All on you
And that's so
So not fair
But I can't
Deal with
The fact
That you miss
Me less than
I miss you
Is it so
Wrong to
Want you to
Miss me
I want you
To kiss me
At night
In your dreams
I'm begging
You please
Give me a
Sign that
You could
Be mine
Don't ask
If that's
******
It is because
You don't
Have the time
To listen
To me whine
You've been
Inside for days
Your world
Is surely
A haze of
Therapy
And remedies
To things
You don't want
To fix and
I understand
The pain
Of being torn
Away from the
Things that
You've lived on
For so long
But I've
Been there too
It *****
It really does
But please
Come home soon
I'm in love
With your letters
There's no
Promise of
Forever but
I at least
Want to see
You before
You go for good
I'm not
Misunderstood
Just ashamed
Of the things
That I've done
And the things
That I'll do
But not of you
Never of you

They think I'm recovered, that's what they said
But there's still a constant battle inside my head
It would be so much easier to stay in my bed
And go a week without being fed
And let my arms drip with red
Or I could totally give up instead
Would people really miss me if I was dead?
Of course they would miss you, they really do care
You might feel alone but you've got people there
You need to stay positive when life is unfair
Just think of that outfit you wanted to wear
The summer breeze that goes through your hair
The smell of flowers drifting through the air
And watching the sunset through the trees over there

Each day I pray for an ear that will hear
above all the noise clearly His voice.
For while sometimes it's best to be serving with zest,
sometimes it's better to sit for a breather
and wait in his presence and enjoy this true essence
of sitting and being before going and doing.
So while sometimes I'll Martha I know that I'd rather
spend time being Mary, in less of a hurry,
for there at his feet I'll be more complete
and hear his clear voice above all the noise.

Ruler first or ruled

in the grand
scheme
of things

the inter-e-
stop

interest
interesting times, quants of time,

quants divisible, but

non-un-en-tangle-able as opposed

at tthis moment
with tangibility being the re-
al-it-if-I-can temptation

time is permanently temporary here,
if that's okeh with you, as

peacemakers were learned to say.

Leave us let this be, see we was never taught,
we
was caught, and we learned

I can-tations
I caint-tatations yessir nossir, damnright,
I'm white trash

from way back. Hillbilly Scotts and Fisher man Sicilians.

Outlaws hang from my family tree
with some honor, omerta. doncha know.

My great granddaddy fought in the Lincoln County War,
on the side that won.

Ever last one o' my kin's sons,
I ken re
call

was left with a life t' live after
winning a war.

Then came me,
and I'as left t'live after losing war after war after war

for no reason,

those was unreasonable wars.

We was poor boys made men by God
And the Corp-
us, the embodiment of an esprit d'corp

-- flash (the real kind, where you remember an event
in time re-
lated by the merest of mere threads of
wonder)

what if, you are reading this and its like
reveilatory
re-veily girl wwwuwu
re-unveiling, luring

you

to a true-ly, like true,
(you can't tell the difference, no diff, right? D'Israeli, maybe.
said that, aside)
true
Hell. Imagine that.
You can't.

Searing hot iron truth:
no condemnation here, no more, ever on
this edge,

if
things stay balanced.
Any time, past now, is mortally pre-carrious

im' guessing that means pre-tooth rot,
but, I can check…

I 'as wrong, lookathis:
precarious (adj.)
1640s, a legal word,
"held through the favor of another,"
from Latin precarius 
"obtained by asking or praying,"
from prex (genitive precis)
"entreaty, prayer"
(from PIE root *prek- "to ask, entreat").

Notion of "dependent on the will of another" led to
extended sense "risky, dangerous, uncertain" (1680s).

"No word is more unskillfully used than this with its derivatives.
It is used for uncertain in all its senses;
but it only means uncertain, as dependent on others ..."
[Johnson]. Related: Precariously; precariousness.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=precarious>

tooth-rot persuasion-wise, I'as right.

Jahnsan, we assume Samuel or some other dangling
Johnson, says *******, who rides me

through the raison patch from time to time
so I can see the angel.

The messenger, the very one, told
the Prophet professed to be that lastest wit' the mostest

but un-propheside of precariousness

this very voice manifest aurally, in the
non-shadow-casting image of a pillar of light,

highbeams on a foggy night,
from far away,
then blam
headlights

the voice it said,
"Read".

Twice. Nada mas. Read. He heard it.
But he could not read, so
highly spiritual
was he --
post allakindaholyshit
to him, alone,
an angel of light, with new good news,
just in time,

write this down,
its
weird.Wait…
Wars could …

They could.
Wait. ( as we have, and may, yet.)
Wait,
I can see what the professed prophet can see.
I did read.
He could not.
Ought he to have taught? Who am
I to judge,

times and times and half a time,
that clock,
did it have an alarm?