I Believe That It Is Rightful I Believe It In My Mind

and there's some kinda things you just cain't kill.

i remember sayin something clever i wanted to write down. i remember seein her familiar face. i remember bein on the ground. and then i woke up. and i woke up to more sleep. and i woke up to realizin that i had been in a wrong way a thinkin i hadna even thought before but there it was and was right where is in front a me right where you cain't shake no matter how much you commence to squallin nor shakin and hangs heavy in front til you reach out, grab a hold, and remember that very much of a time between ground and wakin up that time that was between time and was time that very same that was existed for an almost just so (and so and so and clearly) and this all becomes all to and all too clear.

and i would cry out 'is there a perhaps a someone out in all of there?' and i must go to them, reach out to them with a hand's gentle caress and ask them 'did you too cry late into the last of nights? did anyone even begin to kiss you?' and even supposin their answers come quick and clean it still ain't their answers cause their answers ain't meant for this questionin nor none other cause their's is the questions we ought not be askin. questions not new nor never was, but old as old is or ever was.

and your torn sounds will scatter in the wind.