12:50

Exactly the when that this sign was intended for,
I ignore the latch
And it catches exactly the way it never does in the daytime.
Now I am that guy.

The stream that runs through is a river in your own scope.
And a conversation that you have with nobody

is so many things

given up to the cosmos

but unshared.

This is one right moment to get it down, if that nobody is my confidant and shadow, extra eyes and ears and guide, intuition and keeper of beans, and names, and queen of my own arcane.
Benevolence allows for a night's rest first.
Mediocrity allows that intention to be forgotten.
Focus reminds me not to come and go with my intention, but to act as I see what must be done.
The hour calls for immediacy or rest, and I am swept into the rush of water swelling through me.
The rock that I am only bakes in the sun and my own constant nagging is what makes the canyons that only my angel could pull me out of,
just to see
that my rock is asphalt
and the canyons a pothole,

all the rest a puddle..
This measured reassurance is defeating and humbling in equal space.
She whispers into you the sounds of your own waterways, brooks of uncertain proportions, babbling of a child
to be be be a bae
Be be be be bae
Bae bae bae
Be bae be bae
Bae be being bae
So sincerely, you can't not promise that you will
Be be be a bae
Be a bae be.
Be bae bae be
Unchain you from yourself
Be there in the river and not under it,
Be bae
And be the guide
And the keeper and the basket and the beans
Then be beams and the bridge
And be be be,
Bae
be all things bae.
But first you have to be

pervasively.

I couldn't seem to reach the cosmos but I dreamed of the place where night would finally fall.
Every stitch of secret mythos would melt from my marrow then and seep into the earth. Should daylight come again, the totem would be full and alive, and teeming with the things I'd never quite believe that I'd heard or seen.
I came true today.

Kind j

This one sinks into the night. Dependable as ever, you can count on exactly this much.
He does not give me hope.

keep you talking,
leave you hanging
onto a feeling.
Just that of anticipation,
and a mutual admiration.
Simple pleasure, that.
This feels so familiar
that now it's comfortable.

To me, his name is synonymous with solitude.

If you would aim to leave me in baited breath,
he does it better.

Humanity gives me hope.
I want only that such type.

Not willing to take part,
he is torn away rather than inserted into my life.
Were he to come and go with his intentions,
I would be plagued.

Sweet relief, the space he leaves.

But every breeze past your lips gives me hope.
While you come and go with your intentions
the air rises, the smoke dissipates, and even the ashes float on.

His is a simple graceless honesty, and I am not one for great excess. I'll never need another one like this.

Choose to be alive in this moment.
Bring the wild fire into your home.
Clean your mind for some time.
Focus on what must be done.
Insert yourself into the life of what you love.
Seek possibilities with an active patience.
Do what you must, with passion above all else.
Accept the gift of your self.
Share all that you are. Keep some for yourself.
To be a friend, do not come and go with your intentions.
And do not tolerate it from others.
All this time spent can be so much better.
Combat your bitterness with support.
Hope is a constant conversation. It can take as much as it gives. Don't let it exhaust you.