In essence I live alive in your presence
but in life I fail to presume the evidence of your lack of affection
with themes of aggression and a fairy tale turned into fact rather than staying fiction
with time passing in an instant this mere digression has taken it's own toll to an end


so lets stay friends and please make amends on our past and present
our present with a gift of a new series of events
events turned into reoccurrences, turned into habits, turned into needs
needs that feed from our soul and embed themselves to becoming a new whole

but this cynical cycle never fails to stifle
a back and forth resonance of air that only prevails with a broken heart and a face


a tear drop falling with a steady pace, a warm hand and a voice,
"I made a mistake"

events

reoccurrences

habits

needs

letters sit
in order,
line by line
at attention,
waiting for
thoughful reading.
a road,
of sorts,
to redemption
sitting, mulling
ruminating on
scripted worth.
engaged in
conveying thought,
from mind
to page,
to mind
again cyclical,
periodic conversely,
intermittent reoccurrences.

alone most,
are little
strokes of
graphite or
ink calligraphy,
mutterings of
little intonations,
phonectic sonances,
utterings, begetting
for their,
episodic isolation,
mumbo, jumbo,
gibberish as
birthing rooms
but together
ordered, united,
babble becomes
lucent, lucid
oratory of
inordanate worth.