know time to mend

mars held high, his mighty fist

wide struck, the eyes in the lake's muck

there's no star, no sky, no great white black nothing

i might..

though, finite.

though instruments are used to keep tongues and thumbs busy,

the love from someone is ..

i flush through the rays and the colours say, "who is he?"

they flash forward full faced with intention. no mention, or better yet, nothing.

dizzy, cause the pull's pace insists the more winded of two roads

new lows, old highs

hand stuck to her cold thighs,

a cute kiss between both eyes,

that soak lies up in the midriff and her short's ties

"broken down", was spoke from the frown.

the mindlessness mattered not, but the removed gown

what is it with this town? gownlessness awaits yours at it's feast.

and the eyes disguise abruptly, hope stuck in the grease.

i'm hoping that you'll at least be there, for snow angels 1st share

their definition in hopes of readmission.

to the stone soul, that can't remember time,

and won't accept the death of things if it isn't him that dies.

i know lies, and these ones seem twisted,

mislead towards rebirth, his night's light had missed it.

and so he enlisted in life, and reemerged apart from strain,

acceptance in strife. there'll be no expectance of rights,

or the values that we confuse with bad nights. i'll reuse all the lights

that haven't yet burnt out. discerned the learned doubt, i've learned to let out.

hocus pocus family focus,

what comes before the ability to notice?

when will it show it's not there to obtain?

left it to let out my tired old brain.

no thoughts, just bare toes,

stumbling onto epiphanies the sun rose
to my attention.
i know now there isn't time enough to mention,
or, that you've not made time for my redemption.

there's no clarity with out suspension.

so suspend it, and save it for a day that you will mend it.