acraein

Turning off your mind

Autopilot flights

Telling northern lights

Beauty of the lack of sight.

–

And every five

We fight the mind.

We idolize

This idle time.

–

But now how will

We work this dough?

Like sturdy Rearden

Or soft Thoreau?

–

This water scene is seeming keen.

Sunset boughs and pinkened dust.

Abandon warehouse caked with rust.

A dozen metaphors washed upon the softly lapping shore.

But these trees have dependencies.

Conflictions arise.

Migrations arose.

Waist deep in the waterfalls

And spirals we chose.

Every day

plucking at

golden thread.

Delicate.

–

Subtle line

from my head.

Life a twine.

Permenant.

–

One bad month,

a no good season

gives my nails

every reason.

–

Picking string

a habit now.

As much so

as breathing out.

–

Tracing each

glass fine line.

Immaculate.

Serpentine.

–

And I guess

this time next year

a full white beard

from ear to ear.

–

All that’s left

is memories

which we take

lives to weave.

Scrawl

down what you need

you come up short

nameless.

–

Crawl

on your knees

fingers flow in

darkness.

–

I saw

a photograph

where I possessed

kindness

–

I saw

within my hands

a certain knot

timeless.

And I’m laying in bed

But instead

I could be some drunk fisherman

Screaming the same shit at the ocean

That I did when I was a kid.

–

And in that wake

I take.

I could risk it all

Without much consequence, no pins

To pick and thread.

–

You told me everyone you know will die in your bed.

Funeral forgotten as every ghost erupts from your head.

All my friends have got a different dream

Well mine are taffy pulled in diaries.

–

And I’m living in my head

It said.

I’m the same dumb shit that danced on the sand

Mask donned beneath the celestial teeth

Laughing that the stars don’t know what they see.

–

You told me every way you know to get at me.

The floor of the fruitstand all strewn with seeds.

All my friends have got another dream

Well mine obey respectfully.