Just Pondering...

Ponder what the author brings…

On search for inner peace through biographies...

Logic illusive, it won’t stay on leash..

Pardon “ill-lucid” reads, self-conceived..

Brain biopsies… I bleed… smeared over screen…

Other eyes won’t seize…

Cause they won’t… Fate must’ve phoned…

Let “them” perish on their own.  

Just can’t breathe; so why exist? It never makes sense;

Resuscitating stiffs? Leave blue lips the bluest...

Such foreign scripts, one source emits…

A bum you’ll never rub elbows with…

Composite shape…stitched in my page flip…

Wonder if mead's are being wasted?

Rip a piece split, quick tug of the wrist…

What’s the point of inscribing glyph?

Just crumble to spheres of worthless…

Though the heaps height lifts…

Won’t defeat my grip…deceit my glimpse?

What are words for; does a line have to make cents?

What’s a thought for? If on bench...

No accuracy? You can’t pen from whence?

Travel to far off environments…

Mage smoke in the "ball", it revolve spin

Exorcise the “Bic”… till’ it’s all spent..

'Tis too potent…

You underestimate the potions explosiveness.