You know what this is.

The seemingly eternal knot in the gut
so in constant need for the melody of contact.
For awareness.
A feeling of mutual sight.
Scherzo of the universe flesh
With the soul at 500 degrees.
A panoramic view of consciousness,
a rendition of the sensible memory
The void of else; exquisitely wind inhabited.
For execution of knowledge
So instantaneous and unhurried; such abnormal exaction.
When inscribed reflection unites...
Abating aimless selflessness.
A oneness; transforming of retrospect.

Boring.

Boring only, is the accuser's state of mind... rather then an adjective to describe the accused.

Thoughts for yours

Where can I go to fall off the edge of the Earth for awhile?
Somewhere where I can be understood?
Taken in… to breath me
Where all is so fleeting
Is it possible to really be seen?
Enough force
Enough pretending
If all is coming or going towards nothing
I shall accept and be accepted by
Where all thoughts are… we are human
Revel in the relaxing and tensing of
Motions to pull and stretch our mind
Letting go of such tight embrace, the thoughts of others
See the beauty if you can escape
For only what is pure mind is known
I am certain
I am sound through nature
Tangled.




Where can I go to fall?
Off the edge of the Earth?
For a while, somewhere.
Where?
I can be understood, taken in.
To breath me it is possible.
To really be seen enough.
Force Enough.
Pretending if all is coming or going.
Towards nothing I shall accept.
And be accepted by where?
All thoughts are, we are.
Human revel in the relaxing.
And tensing of motions to pull and stretch.
Our mind letting go of
Such tight embrace.
The thoughts of others see the beauty
If you can escape for only what is pure,
Mind is known, I am.
Certain I am sound,
through nature tangled.