We once perfected the madness of life called Freedom

The half filled ash trays scattered around us…

no lights needed…we let our hands be our eyes into the unknown..

Some can say foolish while others … others will claim that this Was Freedom at its best.

With everything so new to our world… what were the chances that we would ever think of Stopping to look back..

That which Becomes old and takes the place of history that we once knew… its the Priceless lament of getting old they say…

hey tight yet fragile body kept warm by the gentle Caress of the artists mind…

Many would pass Through the doors of perception.. but only a select few would be allowed to stick around and linger in the mind of the almighty.

The soft smell of burning candles Filling the cold winter nights… its so new to us… but we fall right into place… we feel right at home..

The moon light Slowly sneaking in past the windows… Casting Prey on everything that was lucky to fall within the eyes limits..

Too young to know any better… and not old enough to understand it would not last Forever…

The gentle whispers of her breath pass over my body like the pending death of a perfect day…

in that moment …failure wasn’t even known.. or understood… There wasn’t a single thing in sight that could give off The feeling that one day it would all be gone.. one day it would all change..

I can close my eyes and bring myself back to this place… Though the moon no longer leaks into my creative mind… and the half broken springs of a love affairs adventures no longer Thrill me like they once did….

I’m still able to see us there… amongst the Great music… Past that sleeping bag that never knew any better…. past the clock that would Drain hours and hours away as if no one was going to pay the price of this journey…

we are frozen in my mind like a perfect movie special Effect… the Kind where Everything stops.. and the camera swings around like in the matrix…

She stopped by to say “hi” yet  i never had the chance to say bye

Sometimes I think back and think about the things that I would have perfected.. but most of the times I Think just How Perfected these memories are anyway..

Aunt Mary says… they have the darkest fears… in their eyes…. They have the family disease…

oh man….