A portion of what we work for returns to that greater force.
You’ll learn your mind was worth much more.
It’s all very spiritual.
We are made up of spirit dust, which excites us.
We are strokes of lightning that breath lung fulls of wondrous thunder.
Through pain and plunder.
We gain as much from rain as tasting sun burn.
Flakes fall slow as my tongue yearns.
Paying my patience.
Waiting, taking drugs, trusting loved one and guns hurt.
When I was young I use to cut words.
Unheard statements being unearthed.
Unlearn grading so my papers always subtle.
Take away the part of me that offers all the humble.
Let me pop the bubble.
Pages start to crumble as pavement begins to flutter.
One pays for the other.
It’s all very spiritual.
We made up one another and made up of each other.
Make up with you lovers ‘for the tax man sees you coming.
About the Creator
Andrew Wallace
@andrewnotlogan for Instagram and Twitter.
I’m hoping to profit from my existential dread. Maybe if I write something ~you~ find worth while my life will somehow transcend my mortal body and I’ll live on forever... but probably not.
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