fluid

i write now unkowing of the future that lies in front of me
the future that is what we call life
rambling in the foot steps of my shit and looking in the direction my heart
walking, slowly as the clock ticks away the very existence of the person that i have become

the heart started with gale
the heart beats for gale as well as the breath
the aching, the craving, the addiction
gale

the thoughts of the life that was and is no more because of the life that i chose
the path that i beat down, to walk this weary walk of uncertainty
i walked down that hallway with her
gale

I have the scars on my broken heart to prove the path I have taken has not been
very healhty path for both of us but too in the same breath it has been full of so much fucking love
we craving each others touches in very different ways than the other one has the taste for but it all goes on into
a smooth silk like feeling tracing the skin with each others fingertips.
gale

we both started something that we cant fucking finish. what to do now??
walk away. do we walk away? and just carry that sorrow in our hearts of what could have been??
Or do we stay and fuck things up worse than what they are? I can never let go of my gale she is hidden deep within my magled broken heart and only death will take that away from me.
gale

the dreams that may and will never be. the dreams of...
what may come will never come in the instance of the life of this poet and thus the new hard unforgiving life of the new ensue's the chase
of the life that will be.....the life that never was and will never be. because there is and was no fight for that life.
no fight. none. walk the fuck away and go on with the existance that is called living.
unfinished.

ken.