& that's the truth. even if you speak your language w/ not enough history, there is always someone who knows where you're coming from. & i can see in your eyes, your pretty eyes where you will go. you will go where the rooster will recognize you from a distant past. form a distinct memory to find the search you have. of course there is some religion in the corners of your mounth but they will bleaken by your heartless mind. your tea is cold but my body is warm. i am proud to be here with you. it feels as winning a contest, though you are the silver type. & that's exactly what i like about you we both know, we really know that judgement isw for the different kind. we are not of any kind, we are just kind. kind & warm & free & real. strangely estranged by the bridges we have to cross to get closer to a certain understanding. blown away by the scent of a flashing light, oil & water, salt, the ocean, the holy sea. holy as in reality. i love love love. i fell for a certain shimmering in your eyes & the circles beneath them, they represent the cycle of things. old men in trains which minds you cannot read but whose fear i can smell very well. too bad this is frowned upon. because this where it's at when the tracks are placed the same step away & out.
