Drip Dry Blue Sky

after the orange, the blue seems surreal.
after the brown, the reds here congeal.
in the midst of it all, our thoughts realign.
what once was forbidden is now here and mine.

Dare to dream said the ones who awoke.
dare to speak freely the wordsmith spoke

articulate

yes yes you are, but what am I.

posterior

perfect poses possible possess a past tense term of territorial talkative teasers that truly take time away from fast floating fans of floater

Bit by Bit

Each drink brings us to the brink. Each assumption pushes boundries like never before. till we drop off the face of the earth, knock someones block off, or just dwindle our helpless hopeless little energies into oblivious little faces on the back of the crowd.