A slow turtle, with a heavy back.

Wanted to sprint like the dotted cat.

He was sad because he didn't know his limits,

Devastated after seeing the results of his speed per minute.

Poor turtle knew a little about himself

Grew up among cheetah, thinking he was one self.

Speed was thing where he wanted to be the best.

Without even enjoying the process itself.

He could...

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If you asked

what my heart

consisted

of.

I would say;

half is pain.

Other half?

Love.

If you said

love was dead,

valueless

time.

Clear your head,

break the shell.

Reveal your

mind.

It's called pain,

caused by words.

Dismantles

soul.

Cant blame it,

bred to kill.

Grimmest of

goals.

Sad but true,

both the halves

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your hand rests
on the edge
of the kitchen table
there is no
silence here
only the light fading
like the slow
leaking of breath

an apple sits
on the counter
soft lines curving
into the white
shadow of the wall
we take the curtain
turning like a page
in restless sleep
and the sound
of the rain
murmurs cold against
the window

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The teachers told him not to dream too big,
That his talents lay somewhere other than Arithmetic,
That English would never be so kind,
As to reveal its secrets to his young mind,
That History was better served,
By someone who could steer its curves,
That Science was a distant star,
So he shouldn't try to reach too far.

Maybe because he was so slow,
He didn't listen to them blow,
But to...

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When

Living life at

Speed, if you blink,

You will miss it, thundering

Down the road to hell, thinking

This is not the Promised Land, since

You wanted something cooler, never

Planning an afterlife of flames,

A somewhat hottish heaven.

I found the way by going

Slow, do everything

At 33 instead

Of 78.

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