And now. The end is clear. Like the spot on my helmets visor cleaned by a chance encounter with spilt coffee what seemed around midnight whilst reaching for the state meant in mind.
At present it is crystal. Drawn only with the fractures of uncertainty that linger around such un-calculated foresight.
But like the sticky mess left by the spill, the eventual image is left blurry and dangerous to pear through, should it effect the distances perceived or the presence of unforeseen objects in the path ahead.
Still. for now. Certain.
And it is I that demand certain tea served in a silver cup, with Diejestives on the side to mop the dregs of chance and nonconformist occasionings from the all producing cup.
Would I not be served its Normal I tea then the fit and stopstarting to that church on the edge of that sinking place would surely ensue.
And has before, but not for I. I retain dignity in the caddy ready for the next brew to boil, yet no pride of self can be held, as to make more socially stimulating beverages, one to often looks for the Percs-to-come-later.
Rush for ward, slippers and pipe in tow, or livivnig now without looking to Penned eon's ahead, for the sake of their betterment and so that they may be trusted funding for the past to come.
Why? In the name of recording do we caddy our truest absence of progression to make the present more palatable.
With past cups well documented the real tea tastes much sweeter, but not when we always wish for the last cup or hunger more for the next.
So Spill Real tea in the I, and let it wince at its freshly empty cup, only to learn its nearly time for a Refill.
Sunday, April 15
TI, i,e, I ME is on its side, oh yes it isnt!
And now. The end is clear. Like the spot on my helmets visor cleaned by a chance encounter with spilt coffee what seemed around midnight whilst reaching for the state meant in mind.
At present it is crystal. Drawn only with the fractures of uncertainty that linger around such un-calculated foresight.
But like the sticky mess left by the spill, the eventual image is left blurry and dangerous to pear through, should it effect the distances perceived or the presence of unforeseen objects in the path ahead.
Still. for now. Certain.
And it is I that demand certain tea served in a silver cup, with Diejestives on the side to mop the dregs of chance and nonconformist occasionings from the all producing cup.
Would I not be served its Normal I tea then the fit and stopstarting to that church on the edge of that sinking place would surely ensue.
And has before, but not for I. I retain dignity in the caddy ready for the next brew to boil, yet no pride of self can be held, as to make more socially stimulating beverages, one to often looks for the Percs-to-come-later.
Rush for ward, slippers and pipe in tow, or livivnig now without looking to Penned eon's ahead, for the sake of their betterment and so that they may be trusted funding for the past to come.
Why? In the name of recording do we caddy our truest absence of progression to make the present more palatable.
With past cups well documented the real tea tastes much sweeter, but not when we always wish for the last cup or hunger more for the next.
So Spill Real tea in the I, and let it wince at its freshly empty cup, only to learn its nearly time for a Refill.
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