Black Cotton
..
Time escapes the average mind in a hammock tired
damaged yet still savage, lavished with corona and lime
ageless like fine wine unwound by the wound which shy's
the sun strokes grope and invoke whats meant to be mine
i swing while i drink thinking about the philosophy of life
death has surpassed me and im at ease from the concepts of height
honest the fuits of my labour ripe, slighty toasted in its delight
a choir of crys, a fire supplied with denial next to none - a nun in her own bible hides
amongst the monkeys - the goats and all that bestowed
i sink whats sunk for this drunkard is skull fucked by the options explode
free thought free falling without a short straw or abortion
contorting with forwarning that i might be over exposed with yall fortunes
still im still
still i will
sip subtly blowing bubbles in to the sky from my lower lip
in gest this jester knows no bounds when comes to this showering wits
each candle floor - drips poor portions into a thirsty land of what for
therefor i am numb
to silence
to noise
the poise i embrace myself that one day i will leave with my feet on the floor
my feat unexplored boring to most a by pass of a person ignored
but the truth is comfort is home a story waiting to be read
a hero for sure in a gallery of amture hour resting bed side in this set
until then i bet
just one seemingly silly wedge of reality blessed in hindsight
that might die if i wasnt soo at peace with mistakes of man as they pass by
goodbye for now and be welcomed to come again
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