justwrite 27 december

So I decided to jump but it was hard to tell where the ground was where the sky caught up and the clouds dropped the crops circled around the growing surrounded the lack of tracks the thunder cracks the lightning in half and I would like to be clear but it’s not necessary there’s a promise of sense but it’s kept in a box safely in the dark and parked in a closet back behind the summer clothes if you suppose I’ll be simple there’s a dimple in both my cheeks to say otherwise there’s no surprise at the end of that tunnel funneling all the clues into one sticky glue it’s easy to get stuck in and there’s nothing but luck in the venture you hope and it’s a rope I’m tossing out but another bout of wonder and the numbers will climb the odds aren’t even and the cards deal themselves we’re toasting our healths and knocking on wood for all the good that’ll do I’d rather tell you otherwise but it’s no surprise I’m interested after all it’s a call I wouldn’t have made a few stages back but now on this track I can see the preview and it’s running through my mind like dreams you’ve had but kept in your pocket locked up but peeking out and the doubts ought to get washed away but there are plenty of plays in that book and I’ve read it straight through even the parts that don’t exist one could easily miss a strategy a precious gem shining unlike rivne which as we know goes with the flow of people past fast enough to quickgo and hurry on but the singalong is one I’ve heard before so the knock on the door is in time keeps the beat and when I smell defeat in a sideways angle it’s easy enough to bangle to bungle to get caught in a jungle of whatwhat distraction the contractions between time and space erasing reason it’s open season for magic but this can also mean the dark kind the feelingfine and then suddenwrong kind of switch though I like the bait it’s better to wait by the side of the stage and take notes while the moat water rises and the audience realizes what play’s the thing and who the players will be just please don’t stack the deck don’t jack the wreck up and spin it around casting aground a sailing attempt with silken wind gathered in and tethered up just a cup that runneth over and over with a remix that gets fixed is more my sort of tea