

TingleIt's the tingle. Churning up a soft spine. When I think of it all, When everything stops, Nothing is tragic, and I see your tragedy in me.Tingle
Replace the escape with a ticking tock of time And remind the sky It has time to change.
Crescent

Potholes"Potholes"Potholes
Why art thou' roads so full of deepened dirt?
My teeth do chatter, back does harshly crack;
A nice spring drive turns into constant hurt;
Such roads are pains I wish the world did lack.
Unlikely it will be to read a sign,
For eyes won’t read such distant shaky text;
Each word becomes a task and ev’ry line;
A quake bestowed, and mind is much perplexed.
You choose to take one road but then regret.
They’re always fluctuating day to day;
Anticipate them when it does get wet,
And
~jhn
--
~...and I hold my breath till it's more than I can take and I close my eyes and dream that I'm awake...~
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