tickle my ear with promise,
but say what you will.
weak will bends lobes
hard of hearing.
sounds ring strong of
pitches over thrown.
hearing a present predicted
but remembered at present.
looking back for that
which travels from ahead.
well, it comes from more
than one head, but
perspective is personal.
i’ll put my hands up
but don’t hold me to it.
thud, thud, thud
the note pound my senses.
it reads, thinking felt.
the spaces between
reach towards one another
only to have their grasp
thwarted upon reflection.
pronounced initials
of first impressions,
whose brevity transfigures
misinterpretation,
decays under analysis.
living contrition assumed
when death is.
dance
just move
find your beat
and carrying it loud
move how you will for
your pleasure depends on it
we all hear a different rhythm
and act accordingly
understanding experience
looks odd from outside
life lives apart of perception
one that distorts reality
differences shared
through a loosely
veiled guise.
