Its time to pardon,
to end it all...

Someone Hold me,
Please pick me up...

A ripple of satisfaction,
drips through the crack...

Poking at my innards,
inside my deep vast soul...

My empty hands are folded,
they covet something lost...

Staring into her coffee mug,
she looks around the room...

Tell the water,
how to move...

Cancer doesn't care,
whether fit or sad...

Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting.
Yes indeed, the monks were flying...

"Solitude, a word without action,
a play played by many without satisfaction...

Bloom Nightingale,
shed those awful things...

Whether or not my existence,
was pre-ordained or set in stone...