Is there light? With the shade drawn you’d never know. And that isn’t a shot at your ability to apply the proper techniques while shading. I had to say it before you started analyzing far too deep into the trenches again. Sometimes people just dig holes, love, they dig holes not to bury anything, nothing to hide. They dig because it’s in their nature; Look how you dig.
Come to me for us,
Come to me for us,
Because if you don’t come,
Something has to let up
Wrists for a powerful stature. Weak wrists can’t hold anything. Tied up or let loose.
Your hands do all the speaking I need, and your wrists don’t let whisper slip. If I were any bit of the rage I’ve decomposed I’d have a few lashings, roared up and resulting in quivers. Sage and nothing else. You are very sage.
I’ve been really a ghost,
That’s not fair to the ghosts I’ve met
I’ve been less than present,
Ive been trying to escape,
You know me I care
But I feel the reveal,
The hidden sketches
The tightest chest
Breathing is all I can do
You’ve given me so much
I admit now I can’t hold it,
At this time I don’t have a reading
All your chalk should be smeared, what essence I’ve felt smearing chalk, washed together we are now our cleanest. And smoke, just enough smoke and ash to understand the danger of this talk. What is of greater importance; What has taken place, or the potential that still has to pour out? Rain washes it away, but we go where the rain goes and that’s a long cycle to be patient for.
Who cleans the rain? Well the Earth does, and we are in part that body of land and water.
Dirty Window Pane Poetry - An Experiment 