For What It's Worth

laughter filter through the sun whispers a whole host of brevity through the corridor of my mind one would suffice once this life is lived never another chance at which to roll the dice a fatalist like a bird on a wire snap shot moments of our past hoping that you would soon grasp a memory of a distant shore the quest to want more we are buried yet burdened from deep inside the sweat of the hands when will we ever live to understand lucid dreams things falling apart at the seams lets look ahead and never from behind the crust of the bisquit is the apostrophe better off letting things be