eighty-seven

learning, much of the time spent up life savings on

games of chance is the last given speeches     

and teaches what knowledge of the outfit

adorning a simple being quiet as usually coming to   

this then thanks for the condolences and        

see you on a day I can’t remember where I

belong to the school of nothing really matters much  

in the eyes of impermanence straightening     

the curly hair growing up quicker than I

could have imagined that our friendship will

transcend this life and onto the next 

road to discover a missing piece of a puzzle I will

not finished until true understanding may not be        

reached in this circle I see many sides and     

each has a story of its owner is not one I

know when I will leave this existence and I don’t

expect anyone to believe in themselves that   

is all that is needed a date so that someone

could fins validity and of course I could be wrong     

as I was last time I fought it all along, did      

want to fight forced into it as a sort of

punishment maybe just part of the way to

understanding my existence is merely a         

blink of the blind man’s eye reassures me

and not possible to know anything for sure I have     

been here before

I can’t remember details know I was fighting killing now

regretting accepting came to me in a dream    

separate state of consciousness I looked into  

the glass and saw a soldier similar in

appearance and you were there as well I know I am  

hard to follow these words they cannot          

hold the full meaning of the thoughts I

have obtained in dream states and restates where I     

have been here before, my worn out body     

laid to final rest into another and so my

parallel planes of thought of the dual being that I       

am both writer and reader and on both side

of the bed at the same time wanting and

not wanting destroying and creating destructive

creativity that is that of the most powerful      

Śiva is a part of you and I and don’t

expect me to remember details of what we did and    

who else we knew life to live and this

moment is all that matters and soon it will

be gone and reunited with those forgotten know I     

must return before Bodhi vision is mine

exploding to a higher plane and not quite

as confusing when the powerful lids of the third eye

open and on the third of fifty-five plus two

the crab drags me away again…