I reside with a vast collection of inconsistencies. A sea of distraction that’s dust collected me; still I come back to a path where no X’s sleep, and all question marks proceed. The same old ride-by-luck, drawn on hope and infinities. My coming back, my toxic trials, my hearts reside in all these miles; my face-to-face finds peace in all the midnight tides. I come again, and leave again, and back and forth by right. On letting go, and consequence, and continental quills. Stuck to me, stuck on us in black and white beguile. Drawn inside and disappeared and “Hey, come back in time”.
On letting go, and letting go of mine.