Raindrops falling on my windsheild like stars filling the night sky; they are all made of the same stuff but slightly different, like you and I.
That stuff we see its not really there, it's pretend. Yet I still care as though to be fair, I am unsure of how it first got there or how or why we perceive it at all. In the winter, spring, summer or fall.
Can't keep my focus like a frog hopping from log to log. I've sown my oates and now I flog on to respawn elsewhere since this moments now gone.
Simplicity can pass you by, awkwardly as you attempt to fly. Flow through my shoes, I'm off to lie, down with words as empty as glass bottle with a message.
I'm just that awesome, you'd love me I'm sure if not just my visage. She liked him but he didn't like her, he preferred his women with a bit more fur.
And she was as bare as she could be, every speckle and freckle his eyes could see but he could not say no.
His eyes meets hers both wanted to know if the other felt the same, you'd think it lame but omit that shame.
As the stare grew from seconds to minutes it was as if time froze, nothing mattered for that moment not clothes or homes.
Nothing really ever matters not even matter itself as a matter of fact I've placed material on that shelf, behind me.
It's in my past as the moment felt it momentarily froze but it never really lasts. Like and old pair of clothes. Together which is where things like this belong, like nat king Cole and old king Kong.
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