done for however long it may be.

the noise is a constant drum
inviting but too loud
loving, love for it, and beautiful
but maybe too much.

thoughts swirl in circular motions
around breath, skin, sinew and bones;
around life
and grief
care, nurture and touch.
it creates 90% of your thoughts
and they are a part
of 90% of your love.
this feeling,
you wish it never goes away
no matter how much doubt
your mind creates.
and you know it will create
until the end of time.

brows furrow,
eyes dry
and times is a blur
times skips
time is obsolete
until one resounding moment
that creates
silence.

your life is his own
and always will be.
but eventually
all this will end
and the beginning is now
and it's end,
it's begging.
you know,
and you accept.
as always.

sometimes,
you wish for such a thing.
but at the same time,
you wish for such an opposite.

lives blooming around you,
and you pay no attention
for some reasons
and some interests
and unexplainable
possibilities.

everything should always be
in this state;
a state of confusion, fuzz,
skipping and bubbled.
a beat sets your hearts pace
your breathing's pace.

you tense centered muscles
muscles up top
onto such meaningless appendages

and think about past scenes that
play in your mind
that makes sense,
but don't.
that play clear,
but blurry,
and you breath in
the familiarity.

you smile,
you live,
you love.
everything is how it should be.