"lips fat with confessions" (joel chaffee)
We've substitutes for all the special things. We've manufacturing machines in holiday shapes to bring it 'round- together, to coaxe it, birthed into our existance. From indulgence I've turned tossed sweat sleep where the mornings - frankly - don't find me. And I've been waking to family smiles tension and its been the longest time coming yet and another set of longer times to come and the leftovers are the plane ride ponderings of a hope they know they're meaningful. Life change(s) towards a coming into an adulthood or a letting go letting gone of perhaps nothing more than a man made stumble of an innocence. Does a straighter walk require a tighter smile and will the seasickness come if I quit this, quit these dramamines...?