The fo(u)nder of fondness
lies in ^

from first light to
almost new
i let rage cry
She sat in my  chair
followed me to town, to bring me down,
sometimes she stayed invisible,
feeling her, still made me feel sad,
bad, angry and mad.
wish I went to bed earlier,
she's sitting with me now,
tomorrow merged with today,
hope rage and sadness have had their say,
I honoured those guests 21 hours long,
maybe they got what they need,
tomorrow I hope i find ****.

In the backseat of your Audi, the three o clock shadow
slants across your face like a threat, makes you look
dangerous. Makes you look
interesting.
So what do you do?
I tell you
I write.
What does that mean?
It means walking into a crowd and getting lost in your head. It means finding loose change in your heart.  Means the world is your dysfunctional, perpetually disappointed, ailing mother. Means this isn't going to last.

But all you see is a silver smile.

with blind faith,
that he, who wore the robe,
was good,
tiny little Miss Led,  
Miss took for his Miss Take,
resulted in a lot of Miss Chief,
made a lot of time for Miss Spent,
spinning lead into gold,
Miss Takes the highway,
to another town,
Mist her on Mainguard street
recognises her frown
knows how to turn out, down,
Miss Creant
breaks with love,
and the falconers glove,
grabs her coat, bus and boat,
Miss Out, Miss in,
Miss Tree,
Miss Sin,
Miss Use,
Miss Told,
now feeling bold,
Miss Treat,
Miss Handle,
Miss Hold a candle,
Miss Fire the flame,
igniting his brain,
Miss Adventure continues,
knowing for sure,
this universe central to her core,
some  Miss Score,
the ones who left, are all still here,
they hide in shame, resentment, fear,
they gather to talk about Miss In words,
out standing in their fields,
lack under standing,
her story they stab, they miss,
why the hiss,
telling lies for so long, still makes his story wrong,
this Miss Ion
where all the serpents tails are bit,
doesn't need a song,
to make a big hit,
they call her Miss Spent,
Mist her 'Sad is T' errific at hurt,
teaches her that Mist her Hate lacks faith,
she knows love is eternal and true,
God is the glue,
that keeps Miss True afloat,
knowing a white winged horse
which will arrive, off course
on a figure of 8,
Miss Step with fate.......
look up, look wide,
listen deep inside,
a quiet voice,
so soft and kind,
faithful and true,
if only they knew,
they wouldn't keep doing ,
the things that they do,
their best laid plans,
dye on their hands,
an iron pendulum,
keeps time in check,
truth is wilder than fiction,
what the heck.

she accidentally met him
who had purpose
energetically speaking
it was truly love
he picked her up
and spun her like shes never been moved before
she surrendered
hoping her head would stay floating higher than the floor
if it did hit
she cannot remember
was it september, november , or december
who knows time has a funny way of running away
stopping,  past collecting , building a future to
this present tense,
here and now, doesnt seem to make  a lot of sense
signs would be too obvious,
the road a cross,
if she saw one she wouldn't believe it was telling the truth,
now she only has one route,
square.