I see now
of me, myself
The triangle of !ife.
What circle of my repetitive glossary only knows to say.
Now I know,
what it means to be no one and some one,
Do the hand of my eye loves a sense of belonging?
Did my eye see the touch of the ears can not follow what is?
Then only in my mind my heart swallows its pride,
than to have a proud life not in shame nor care to blame,
the people left behind who never can follow what happened now
and be kind enough to see how much,
the suffering one can take.
What did my hands hear where the eyes did handle all of these?
When does my ear shut and why must my feet love this hobbit hole in which I am in?
How am I going to handle all of the answers even my heart does mind all of the motions,
and the feelings of all moments passes,
Only the love of a stranger ever grace,
all of this shit,
that I muster.
For the heart and of the mind,
Nor a love of a hand.
But a smile upon your eye or the wink that your ears follow.
Yet only by the love of a voice;
So please carry me into your life,
someone to be in your life, lasting and not lusting for everything.
. . . Do go on.
Loves none but not to move,
only to make someone,
… or any to be forward thinking.
In a way we are to make,
not of history,
even conforming or not.
A force which may or not do bind,
each knot of past and future,
a depression that states all of situational stress.
The spirit will make us all move,
into our own . . .