Chilled, perhaps, by the building’s thermostats, left with fewer ticks: fewer finger licks to turn the same number of pages. Several other factors, too, throwing off the gauges … troubles which really aren’t my duty to divulge because I don’t want to concentrate on the problematic bulge but to remind you of the finger that winds your ticker, that allows you to relax, to recognize the foam that dashes against the rocks as you lie in the interlocking wicker of a tree’s roots. I want you to know of the incredible find, the thing which allows you to solve this or that bind, the underlying thing which I’ve … barely outlined; but with great intention: here’s the mention:
YOUR BEAUTIFUL MIND
I know, cheesy, but I felt like writing it. I like to dish out some hope now and then, especially to those deserving. I have a need to rhyme lately. I guess it gives some reason to try to structure.