Moments just appear. Like the folding and weight of storm seas. Is dying like drowning or magnificent and quick like a super nova? And why don't my days get caught by the time police for high-jacking me? My mind can't fathom that yesterday in the 5th grade I was going to kiss that girl and what to do with my leaden arms? Shortly after I had to contend with the contention of Hell and the allure of cocaine. But, I quickly learned to drink that difficulty away and adopted a gremlin that identified with me on levels of cynicism and pride. 20 years later I woke up with the same hangover.
Time is mostly wasted to the state of indifference and then I am left alone with petty rationalization and justifications brought to life in a cauldron. Shaking rattlesnake tales. Events seem to happen in a vacuum except for the thin halo of air that I feel on the skin of my arms. So, something must be going as planned. Don't ask me what or why I once thought the levers were in my control. Abandon all notion: there is always a split rail fence at the edge of the property that we think we own.