balance.

dearly beloved,

i will write you once more before the first time i will write to you. it's the last time before the beginning of constant letters in words. The beginning of constant numbers in different addresses. The feeling of an afternoon nap beginning with the sign of satisfaction. It becomes with the cleansing of a soul, which in return, can ample enough energy for another step to cross the thin transparent line that will define the beginning i mentioned. soon enough, baby. soon enough, baby. it'll all pass through quickly, the slower it feels the scary it will get. but the fear is within. and the distance is just silence. momentarily suspended in to space..that's what it feels like when not alone. a scent from the insides of a homebody. you smell like home. you feel like home. hence, before the beginning of another end, of another beginning, of another fork we choose to just strut across holding a well deserved hunch on our shoulders. it's not like we don't enjoy our depression, but our depression are our lives. i saw you practicing this. is it going as well as you hoped? ... disc.over.

you won't sweat it.
you won't try it.
you can't just keep running away,
you gotta keep cunning your standards,
flatline a fake heartbeat and depress,
and deal a whole deck of cards.
bluff god.
seek a start.
and continue.
to where i proceed.
seek a part.
and understand.
to where i process.

i will then ask myself, where have i lost my mind? or is this such an indifferent feeling. you control the nerves in my system. they only want to see you flinch. and i say fuck that. these people you followed and lead for days don't need you. and what will you do.. what will you disc.over.

i think you'll just be fine.
if you just draw some time,
after and moments before,
your world crashing down,
from the center of your core.
to the beats by the flatline.
you make it once more.
just to ask the correct time.

don't you see where i am flying to? cabin pressure: steady. lights flash: green. temporary status: still temporary. then what are we doing wrong?

standing still.

maybe balance doesn't have to be standing on two stablized platforms.
but maybe to become universally connective with your space form.
get up like a fucked up drunkee; just do it and forget.
remember the outcome.
the process will no need of remembering.
the forgetfulness shines forever.
because remembering the fear of forgetting.
remembers the forgetting of fear.
universally connective with your space form.

still find home. still find your own. i suggest some stable movement with these stars.
yeah, i don't know how to either. but don't you think maybe this is why symetrical bodies like ours are meant to create platforms made from two legs. tangle our bodies and get into the intense innuendos of oh yes. we have lift off.
confide in the thought of me. and create stillness in the presence of me.
we'll manipulate silence to see it's noise.
we'll correct every wrong feeling in our sensual deeeepth.
no matter how much you try.
you will always effortly become worth it.
this is only the end before the beginning.
i am negative.
and the leftside.
but not backward.

so come along and i'll lead you the right way.
you talk about balance.
then you're talking about an offer deserving to be ..

well i'll leave that up to you now.



aren'twebothjustafuckedupcoupleofindividuals.