It makes less complications
to be on the better side of imagination.Go wherever, however.
Play with light or be made of such.
All substances resurface.
Most of humanity is
latest ideal, public appeal
and bla bla bla or bla bla bla.
There is somewhere aside
a moment of truth.
Like when everybody is asleep
commotions hush and tensions restrain.
Fiery thighs and warm calves in the cold hours.
Hill ways and wherever.
Becoming somebody else's daydream,
or out of sight at just the right time.
___
Humanity's a waste which is a could-have-been. It has potential, time and time again. But mostly it's a commotion like an island wrapped in an ocean. It's not for me because no person can ever get enough.
There's always something more or something to add onto or take away.
Sometimes I even have to join in or make due or haste or play.
But mostly I just try and coast me.
Keep the bearings whirling,
even be the oddball
to filter out those who quickly judge.
None of it bothers me after some of the shit I've seen.
And any human or animal or thing,
i.e. person or pet or tool,
that is there or is not there,
is company and not necessity.
It takes that lion or lynx's truth
within to face that kind of realization.
Loneliness is any human's hugest fear.
Until they think of substance,
endlessly reforming. Just new arrangements, constantly, always,
of experiencing amusing itself,
seeking to find itself.
_
_Then hitting "reset" yet again whenever it does.
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