Hover over others for a poignant perspective,
Lessen the listen to a tale or two
Eradicate the busy, the drum, drum, drumming of the heart
Knowing how to pace is the key piece to fine-tuning the art

Look, elder gentleman in the front row,
Need not know where he go, 
So long as he goes, just goes, somewhere
There, where parallel streets kiss over yonder
Tired bones, still young eyes,
Have more to see before full-wise
Internal abyss, filling by the second
One sight after another in all the dying day
Slow to sufficient, but the will to stand not sit may
Be the way to find and keep safe haven.  

Stand under, or understand the context in which
His situation is but time lost, a cost we all 
wish could be granted back
Instead, like he, travel with no drawn-out map
Leave a gap well-left between you and yours
Seek what is toward, and step forward
Have purpose to go, just go, somewhere

Now on to the next, what person’s text shall we read today?

I haven’t the time for those who, in haste,
waste it, taste bit by bit and spit wit 
So smooth, they lose me in the cracks
of my porcelain skin that broke with every 
dine-and-wine line
For what feels right then but what’s left in the end
Never was worth it

Thorn in my side, with all my pride, I will not make a fuss or fit.
I swear to you I’m angry, I’d rather you not see it.  
For if you do, the time to find that little bit
of sanity, the bind of all the gravity it took for me to stay

grounded to a life I never wished to live, but lived anyway
will be but lost and given up into the fading fray.

I’ll tear, and tear again  
Don’t say I never warned you,  
I’ve had my share of gentle men  
the last was left in two. 

To whom this may concern
— a lover and his will to learn,
that little bit’s the core and pit 
of what will only save you.

“Aren’t you cold?” they asked, shivering in their jackets. The weather outside begged me for a day of blue jean shorts and a floral cut-out top, but the air conditioning was on an unreasonable high in the room. At least, for them.

“I’m a wolf; I don’t get cold.” 

There’s a dog that roams the streets in my neighborhood. I’m sure he belongs to someone. Most times, he’ll see my car peek out from the corner and we’ll race to meet at the driveway of my house. Give food to a stray and he won’t stay away, but who the hell am I to deny good company?

He didn’t trust me at first, rightfully so. Days like this went by and I’d find him taking a closer step towards me every time. 

Today, I wasn’t feeling very good. He knew. I sat on my front porch, reached out my hand. He was limping on his left hind leg, as if to say, “hey, me too.” His head rested on my fingers for the first time, and we just stayed still in sadness. 

Finding comfort while wallowing in sadness with another being. There’s irony in that somewhere.

For once, I can just be and not have to try.
The ground shook from under me, and I let it.
Free falling into nothingness,

and then

everything.