Perched on the precipice of the categorical divide Clean, clear, crisp, sound November 8, 2019 Leave a Comment Cancel Comment Name* Email* Website
Happiness, is not a choice. Anymore than sadness, is a choice. You would never hear either of those said, at a funeral. Happiness is a choice. Is what happy people say. When they’re happy. Because choosing to say it. Costs them nothing. They have married their empathy, to a woodstock fairytale, in place of the moment at hand. So. To help them out. Lodge a cake knife. In their shoulder. And tell them to choose Happiness. Is a truth
A shape. A foal. Whose form slips effortlessly from certainty. Meridian in cloak of security. Freedom ~ deft inversion of capture ~ melts the acrylic throne. Cuts its rope of fealty. Unties the tongue in delta. Rapts the rose in tender’s thrush. Fidelity. Heavenly. Emptied of everything ༄. Fountains ༄. Galactica’s. 𝑹𝑎𝒊𝑛 🌈 𝒃𝑜𝒘. Energy. With Gargantua’s. 𝒫𝑜𝓮𝓂𝓼. Of Weightless Gravity
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