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I ain't trying to fall,
I'm steady superceding
Heart drum beating, ear valves pleading ... Just a few more dangling feet

I ain't really tryin at all,
I'm far surpassing
Tailor tasking, burning passion pass the asking...
Just another soul complete

I ain't tryin to impress,
I left impressions
Kept em guessin', these are speaker teacher lessons
Just another then repeat
Mother Goose in Athens Greece
Plato plucks the underneath
Many mostly disagree
More if by a few degrees
Two empty bottles make belief
We haven't learned to light or leave
You can't possibly still trust paper to guard the body from a million tiny shards of mirror reflecting bright lights over smooth skin just waiting to be seen and sin. Clinging glasses dripping with dark juice conjuring the queen of old French folklore, lost in the modern haze of digital distraction.

On second thought, this paper holds up surprisingly well, now imagine a field setting the perfect winter backdrop suddenly possum tails. You stumbled wants over nothing the rest must be the drinking. Now watch closely this brilliant band of sleepy foxes associating things connected loosely to similar but clearly different things.

You know what, maybe just cease being for a minute or check your text messages whatever comes naturally. Tommy turns then turned away luckily by the end of the week everyone will lose another lossless 7 days.

This is endless whiskered theater, grab a bucket of history and heave it at the last holdout for making better choices... Who but us would have thought mirrors and paper protecting our next best guesses.
Has the any wonder passed,
I only ask to fill the gaps
Give in any more or less,
I only hope and hope to guess
Something any holding on,
My only stars to wish upon
Float as any thoughtless care,
I only drift from here to there
Reason any we can gain,
I only rise to ease the rain
Someone passed me up on challenged writing prompts a year ago.
I might search for the horseman's healer
He appears when the need is greatest
I lack nothing in the world surrounding... But I lack myself

I gave everything I could think to give, a future's full of expectation and a few random suggestions
I lack no bit of imagination... But I lack myself

I fill a home for her to return, it's not your everyday stray cat situation
I lack no meaningful level of comfort... But I lack myself

I clearly articulated three descending metaphors and the healer is yet to show
I lack nothing more than you, dear reader... But I lack myself
I've been attending a weekly writers workshop lately, it has produced some gems.
the wonder we witness when water pours
over the head and into the soul
we seek the holy and purest of joys
the youth of wisdom the ages of fools
stand and witness the cleansing refrain
wash over our eyes and into the heart
the rush of spring distilled into liquid
where form and fullness awaken the day
Layers, lifted veiled or gifted, I abide the climbing frame
Greyer, jilted hope is stilted, by and by a rhyming came
Player, plenty a pen/a penny, all the riches richly choose
Mayor, mention golden pension, sit alone and saintly lose

Ladder, leading homely pleading, up and down and back again
Fatter, fated over waited, on the table glass of gin
Gladder, giver heart a liver, all inside for outer sheen
Patter, pity light the city, gritty ****** call it clean

Cover, clotted twicely blotted, white-out for a paper new
Lover, linger point the finger, saying them and meaning you
Hover, heated mother pleaded, visit just for one more day
Subtle, suited aptly rooted, unassuming still the change
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