Two I drew.
How the equal intermittent notches on the clock face flew.
A point on earth where I gather thought to get along on the exponential slope I'm roped to, as it climbs of its own accord.
Who doesn't feel like an afterthought when sizing oneself up next to a mountain?
Shakespeare had 10 brains & 1000 feathered fountain pens.
Sam Kelly, he's only happy when it rains.
That joke is of an "inside" nature to no one, like the inner workings of an impregnable wristwatch, taunting you with a money back guarantee.
Meet my inner child, he could be content for forever with just some parchment & 64 different colored crayons.
I'm not regressing, I'm mashing manifold ideas as they present themselves to my modest comportment.
As life pedals tandem with me, I can't help but hope among hope that we're both on the right path, like an insert coin slot transaction at a charity ball on God's behalf.
Money, money, distraction.
My navel to gaze, my God to praise.
He has your name too, he hides the proof of himself even to himself just because he can, but all will be revealed with a blueprint Holy Bible plan.
Ask Saint Andrew of Genoa, he'll heal your heart with faith like you've never encountered around these parts.
The counter clicks, hiccups even, & I strive to translate the mother tongue of my father.
Dime lo que debo hacer.
To be saved from the prickly problems & the endless material desires of our peak & trough, weep then be happy enough collective existences of strife stuff, all of us diamonds in the rough.