Incognito, with long hair in a green caravan.
She sits steady and speaks fast.
Building her future in front of a paused moment,
In the past.
The pale moist contains the key to a short life.
No more food to hide.
Witnesses perform a circus beyond the grave.
Glazing defeat.
Discovering the next country that will embrace the beast.
Chocolates tarnish the path to where I write.
I hold it to no god to inject fathom and insight.
“Live, and let live,” deemed the up-town character.
“A whistle will clear the hills of killers you’ll try to beat.”
Rise above the subsided constraint, believe
You will keep the bar straight.
Cast aside the flame of doubt, and keep
The ashes to dream about.
