Purgatory

Purgatory
A waiting place
Hierarchy sings
Discordant tunes
Hum a tune in the waiting place

Truth in the tween spaces
The fairy hills
Scarlet threads
Turned golden
Skill, time, patience

Space
Hanging there
Kicking each other
Striking gently
Hell just wants for a hug

Left 
Right
The extremes the same 
Arguing in a mirror
Can you see?
Can you see?
How will they know?
I must tell them.

People save themselves
Finding their way through
How will they know?
Well they have the interwebs too
And libraries
Friends
Enemies
If they want saving
They'll do it themselves

Best to straighten you own curves
Tend your own
Speak your piece
Fit it all together
You'll find
Only what you look for

Is there any greater indication that you've past the point than pointedly making one that doesn't belong to you? Sharing not what is self but sharing to prove something. Here I know the answers! I see so clearly what your problem is. Miss fix it would do well to fix herself...a cuppa something or other and just sit the fuck down. Maybe the silence has more to speak. 

Bullshit for sell. Oh we have so many kinds. Pick your pleasure. Pick your poison. How much is enough? How much to die? How much is just medicine? How much smoke can one blow up ones own asshole? 

I try to be honest. To find me in storms and just dance. But miss steps and miss spoke. Seems a circling sometimes. Hard to know where your speaking from sometimes. But thus we go. No body really knows. But we have to do all the things anyhow. Pick up, drop off, do the dishes, go to work. Run, run, run. 











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