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________________________
You're drinking the sound again.


___________________________________________......__________
I opened the morning through the window. The grass is not blue but there are
layers of clouds with free spirits.

The mountains have woken with cranberry whippings, and the apples are:

a) not leaking
b) not in the ground.

So, where are they?
I stand firmly on the inside, staring at the blue remaining above.
Where is this leading?
Towards peace?

From the sun the door fell today and the pen and pages swallowed the great blue sky
Your thin lines and pagan manners were carved on stone, the tribe allowing this, being sold for food.

There are two sides to each story, this has been proved and the process was not fulfilling.
This is where the light strikes the truth:

You adopted a somewhat timid position, not that I mind.
But we can't hold a flag together against repression, if you want it to happen.
Your side has the devil's access, so go and be wise again.
From the other side, where trees drown in their own roots.

I have another side, that shoves gifts upon my threshold without wanting to, everyday.
This is where we shine.
But I have to break the bad news, there, a twist.

If the notes are played correctly, we can work a scale that will make those girls leak, that will make the wood break.
But if not, then we will not only lose time. I will, then, have tainted your momma's gown in your name.

It's the acoustic shock,
the pinching of the nerve,
the biting of the lip,
the thought I thought would make you cringe.

What do you have to say in defense?
The honors have been handed.