The Wit Path
Bleed fast...hence, happily sleeping slow.
So heavily, so watery the slippery pattern.
Plenty of spare leg rooms to grow, go,
Over through what's left under swollen brain.
Don't forget to leave the safety safely off,
And shape the satellite's goings, stray.
It's darker when it's quiet.
Courtesy, an ear-slicing silence.
Courtesy, the choiced voices establishing super-grounds.
Fear's frozen coast supplied the smile while,
Adding to the glowing silouette of
Sleeping solid inside a steady rock...thrown up.
So green is the peace.
Breathing had meaning this morning,
And still does.
Painted lost for a Van Goghed minute, taken more.
Always taking more...
Would the last one out mind turning on the lights?
