consummation of moments to battle lack. space. grief of unknown proportion.  i fear a shadow is hidden here in my very eye, tempering each vision gray.  tracking for true, i skip pixels on the horizon and remember what smooth was, unbroken color along a bright cold sky. now fortune holds promises of peace and attainment, yet moments break forgotten.  now for the last fortune fall through all the “un”known.  fantasies of saviors and angels now leave me flat.  i find my truth in the palm of your hand on the back of my neck.  its fashionable to say the world is changing and we are waking up:  gasoline on a weak engine: skip to go: start again. i fear there’s a shadow in my very eye, a world too close to even see for its wicked tendrils lie within and our vulnerability will be. savior and angel.  so tell me sweet one and i tell you,  how broken it feels to live, day to day, when the only thing i ever want to do is fan sweet moments of love consummate and shed tear on bitter truth.  i for one, don’t buy it….this pixelated version of a life placated by fortune.  i will not. skip to go: start anew no shadow found. this exists. bring it to me so i may drink its sweet sick fortune into my blood and turn it to something as true as.

the palm of your hand on the back of my neck


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