Was it I, or some other phenomena that painted this history. Was it an indifferent mast that took course northward, driving memories into form and diligently toward the isle of Lesbos, or maybe it was just a stagnant landmass, lost and remembered in an archipelego of a frigid sea.
This quiet new year, is inebriated, classless, and boring. To recall a verse, or create a rhyme; to put both together, live a past, and die in transition. This must serve.
---"We are going to get coffee this weekend?"
--"Where are y'all going?"
----"Maybe Carpe.., (Satori, ... waffle-house!?)"
Let's be friends, and make love later. Rather, let's establish equanimity, and cherish each other. Rather, let's exchange selves; there is no need for the business card.
Ran down the hall, and slid on his chest;----- Swich, brother, whos history is more hardcore?