The inevitable
return
underground again
to ramble
to preamble
to lie alone.
A rock struck stone.
A lair of sorts
" a place "
where these words
get covered over
by cyber-dust
to be shelved-away
in makeshift chapters
that will pair well
w/ what happens
on a day-to-day.
Sometimes sporadic
sometimes enormous
sometimes nothing
&
just sometimes.

It would be nice to know
that there's still time affordable
to etch-out some type of belonging.

I'm not quite my occupation,
neither am I my time-off, but
I hack it, on account,
for both occasions.
      
A "plan" would be nice,
but, an "A-plan" is ideal.
           .·°                      
Find the "A+ Plan," though, and
  we're rolling like orbed-steel.

Mitigating weakness:
a story to shoppe.

Caught short-sighted
w/ ideas to swap.

Lineage avoidance-
tried, fervorously, to stop.

"What's gotten you?"
(amidst this thickening-plot)

"Happy trails,"
w/ the, "New-Ways," co-op.

Utter disenchantment
from this trough-filled w/ slop.

°°°
words do break bones, and
will hurt those-
situated opposite my pen's-grasp.

"Sticks&Stones,"
still remain a meager-threat,
but nothing we haven't thought-thru yet.

This class was taught,
and thus begun,
before thought enumerated
an age for 1(one).

Stationary bobbling
w/ no teeth to gnash,
although, curiously affluent-
as green as grass.

Steps, each step,
became like broken glass-
whether left behind
at first stood last.

Each step/ these steps
a collective school-
each within their own
swimming laps...a pool.

Then unto today, whence...
how do we fare?
All unapologetically
w/ a thought to bear.

Man...
what a day.
Working along the others;
installing until dismay.

¤                    ¤                    ¤
I'm tired of wasting time;
day after day -
continuously plugging away.

These issues of mine,
in short-order, are fine,
but, held-up for a future's bounty.

And for this "concern" that I lack,
since all's under attack,
you'd do well thinking on it until morning.

Plan a trip/set some goals-
anything to relieve doubt
& offers a, "sense of control".

We are all Lords of our own lives:
some Lords will choose to inspire you,
while others don't know how to play nice.

Kindness- it seems,
plays a definitive factor
in the general, overarching, scope of "things".

Paired-up along w/ respect,
and now you'd hold a couple of keys
that'll surely help you when dealing w/
"other's disease".

But, regarding all the things
that I'll never get to see,
will be written from the place
of our collective memory.

That's twice now
when "Evil" has
shown-up w/ presence
to attempt its ritual
of malfeasance.

And both times
I handled it sloppily, but
as well as I could
while under unprecedented
instruction.

I'd liken it
to Ash's encounter
w/ the Kandarian demon
right after he slammed
the door shut.

I really don't; until inspired, but even then
it'll be pigeonholed turn'd swarmy
made indigestible until upchucked
onto my dinner's plate while oblivious
to reconsume by dim moon's light
so unwittingly discontent w/ fullness
that serves a few things so-so, but
only one dreamt well
laying on my back snoring
as I'm waking-up continually short-changed
long been forgotten but the need to
keep moving resides ever dormant
propelling me onward into
each passing-day
behind the footsteps of this guy
in front of me that I seem
to always be chasing
for the instant-moment when I'm found-out
quickly turned-upon onto his face made-out
a familiar one that I just can't place...

So now I'm imploded beyond carefree
aimlessly coexisting until somebody else
cares enough for me to set us free
to where I've never roamed, but would
gladly go by myself or w/ company in tow
8th Density unplumbed virtual odyssey
unappeasing all: one remarkable-*******
yet still granted the reigns
of commercial-grade
wizardry trying hands landing feet
providing these serfs w/ a drop to drink
from color palette smeared on toilet seats
that never became because this realm
my building hasn't unlocked plumbing
in their infancy of liquid-age so fluent
it's charming if one were to ask me?

Granted prayer w/ fervent evaporation
that'll atone well for all this rampant
******* that was promised
delivered but being the Chief allows not
for mistakes so wasn't inflicted mind-agony
so they'll forever be in-remittance to me
now inadvertently I've
created monsters for misery
thinking back on how
I started this all-out terribly
so here came the stone's-Age
when a galactic-crater fell suddenly
issuing a puddle's mirth of nepsis-souls
swimmingly serene (that's the cut-scene)
and my rebirth from out this dream
suddenly realized by two bruiser-hands
latching my neck yanked-out into
roomed-eyes of strangers now gasped my first breath
and ****'n cried aloud since my spot
kicked from you off the cloud
now I'm growing.