then I choose to laugh at the madness, all the madness.

Run and hide in the guise of a corporate flop.

On the bridge between home and adventure,

there lies an under-utilized clock.

 

Broken, though so it may seem,

sick, to some, would even feel sane.

Greater intentions lead to boundlessness.

But I cannot see beyond the grain.

 

Spices and a brutal interrogation of laundry,

the flavor of music forever-christened her touch.

Souls of those around me,

reaping ‘morrow through aversion of such.

 

Echoes of earthquakes deliver the flow,

leaving one's strength for the window of trust.

Neither can be more boring,

as shadows of fame fade away with the dust.

 

Never sure if you're one or of many,

keeping score based on incomplete results.

The laughter returns to breed sarcasm,

death is too close not to insult.

 

An interspecies dance of fitness.

One part sex; one, more eternal.

Time left for nothing more,

than the feeling of what's discernible.

 

The archipelago inside your heart,

a chain never more polished in form.

Spins the gears of an ever-tarnishing clock,

when the bridges hold proud in the storms.