The Coffined night owl

Music suffers imprisoned within skin. Confined to my body. Felt like dancing to shame the outward pain speaking to my insides. Intruders can’t seem to strategize my demise fast enough. I wish a blanket would come and fake my stay. Mother I worry how much you worry for me.lets  Stop transforming my worries into 3rd person points of views. Life should be lived with the best seat in the house not with the view of one. Death beds are real, my entire life has been a preparation for one. Silence is the passion the world needs. New York City has never been more passionate than in the dark. It hugs all it holds within the night. Through the truth of life , one could never find, I wish to experience all things in moderation. By my sexual nature to smell the air the juice of the streets the wetness of the trees, excited by the sun and change of weather. We wish we were wilder . Wind on water present in the woods. Disturbing the wax welcome the wealthy weak invited. The fear it spoke of, wasted the charm of the whispered vows we wowed ourselves believing. Although love graced us once the funk of it stung future attempts to connect. Contributed corruptible actions attracted to turbulent language loved by benevolent ideas idolized for their handmade heroic nature to sacrifice. Be brave not languid voiced the hypocrite covered in cotton. The mouth of the mind well rehearsed in practice. Bed made for a corpulent child far from maturing. Maturity is getting over the need for approval. Maturity was the age of blood, hair and height and baritone lungs.and all this was nothing more than the mathematics of life.

Published by theseriousidiot

My purpose in life is a path of truth.

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