Eternities come and go, and when fruit ripens, it must be eaten, we can live on, without a care in the world, but who are we really without legion, and when the heavens call, and spiders pull strings, how many stood up to start dancing, in and out, inexperienced, the truth simply echoed, and was left as that, as a dream, always yearning to make it to forty, so much smoke, my poor lungs and liver, if it’s left to rot, it may birth a fire, and plant a seed, an echo of a universe outside of it, next, next, when spirits fill a cup, you and your jar, reacting, and ricocheting across the universe, the natural conclusion, and a tale as old as your heartbeat, checkmates at each step, you and your friends, and the spirits behind it, gravity and attraction exist, and how are strings pulled, like the planets, stagnant for so many eternities, up in the sky, stuck in orbit, whistles and long journeys, ladies pass, nice asses...

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