My eyes witnessed the greenery tear apart human ambition. Rip away the instinct and turn it into greed. The cocky stutters of meaningless words repeat, on repeat. With meaningless mixture.
Thoughts bring me back to the drips of red from a face. The red was freedom, not a mask. Most looked in comical ways, the explanation was in the most difficult of ways. Words can be cured when replaced by actions. The actions brought the wet hands to embed the cold stones of natures untouched. Prayers will be recited for the absence of rain.
I sit as a third party, doing what I've learned and pretending relevance. Don't impress me with your plethora of words and mouth-less dirt. Every new sentence sounds cloned with your descending vocals. Rather I have time to spare examining a dead tree falling back into mothers clean floor.
I've heard of the loop, and I've read the Bukowski. The times do change, the people don't. I've heard one too many stories, and one too many machines; Telling the wrong gears to work with the wrong bolts. Stop trying to oil the friction, and let the metal clash.
Understandable comprehension will never be a straight A class. Nonetheless perception is the only biased gospel I'll pursue. Who would insert foreign eyes if it promised correction? But deny the purchase of new ears if it allowed precision?
The children never stop with the super ego. With the questions. With the eyes. With the laughs so short lived. A fallacious thought can pilot a misdemeanor of the mind, but I'll conquer; start with July and end with Why.
The littlest specks in a room can turn the atmosphere. . I didn't ask, so don't tell. The letter "I" is proving it's meaning. Second person is losing its intimate appeal.
So say farewell to the dress, and a hearted welcome to the mess. The fire died with the paint from the rain. It's been a century's year, and a memorable cause. You've made it back home. A holiday for your soul. Drop out. Welcome home.