#time drops

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Rain

The Spiritual Bath, cleaning all there is...

Or maybe it's the Tears from Heaven mourning us all as we claw at everything and everyone to survive.

The thunder punches the garage door. The boom amplified enough to terrify a mountain that can't move as if struck by fear, but can slowly erode from the myst of change from above.

A reminder that everything has not just a Purpose, but a few.

Water itself - a Cleanser and a Destroyer

Fury without Anger...

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They hover in the space between the lines, and the sometimes the outside. Oh how I envy them.

The freedom to make a statement within a statement with a punch or a pat. All it takes are a few good ones put together and a story can be told in one formation.

Freedom may come at a price. Some are forced, while others have free reign. It's all about the context.

These characters bring forth character with their character a sight worth seeing if you just sit and observe.

Some stand at the forefront with elegance, sipping tea with their curved fingertips, upright and artful whispering secrets many would miss.

Others carry so much weight they hulk over, bold and armored at the forefront of every group they form, demanding attention with a boisterous voice bringing sometimes unwanted recognition. Every mention of them is a blow to the receiver.

Others are hardly seen and heard, hidden in context like trauma from childhood, tip toeing on old wooden floors giving away their presence with subtleness, and yet still a mystery how they remain silent at all with its twists bends and sense of urgency between the spaces. Deadly when used correctly - or so they say.

But for one of them, they stand more alone than the silence they could never really bring. Questionable perfection as they lean against the page, fully rounded. Not fat or plump but hollow inside like so many of us. We want to belong. We want to stand out. To be seen and heard, but when we are, we fall flat while others get the glory. No matter the design, it's shape would remain, adjacent to the number of Nothingness. "Oh, that's just lovely" so many say, forgetting it's that letter they ignore that makes the world of words complete.

This is Time Drops #1 - Letters

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Public Transportation

The Diesel engine roars right before pulling to a swift stop. Passengers heads rocking forward like they're nodding off wasted by the days activities, or nodding to a track they can relate to - much like me... Evidence on the Mic, real Hip Hop shit.

The faded smell of budget cleaner from Walmart intermingling with the hot desert sands and dust like we're in the Mojave without the wind gusts and storms.

Lord forbid we got a dust storm out here, we'd be slumped from the oven heat alone, coughing and gagging like the elderly man over the percussion of my ear buds - guess that's spreading the wealth and the misery of the day and fragile health.

The driver focused on the road, residual of what he last looked at on his phone while his stomach growls ; his last break just thirty minutes away, right after I step off to exercise the day to day stress away on that treadmill or pumping the weights in a silent, sweaty fury... Something that driver may consider doing too.. No disrespect but he could drive freehand with his belly.

Halfway to my destination, I eyes left like a stuttering dyslexic fresh out the military precision, the stop cord mustard yellow like false gold before the deception fades. I wonder how many hundreds of fingers graced it's smoothness. Maybe more than the body of their loved ones. Regardless I'll clutch like the troopers before taking commands to dive and not forget to pull the shoot. Oops I meant chute, sorry not sorry, I use these words as my ammunition, locked and loaded, should I use the rubber or the hollow metal?

Nagh I just want peace today. I smiled writing this in the royal blue bucket seat. Entry complete.

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The Heartbreaker

There you are, you venomous alchemist

With your glowing eyes full of sunlight.

Your words a caress on the ears, adding warmth to the soul like a simmered meal.

You've brought relief to the hopeless and famined.

Only for you to change faster than a baby that didn't know any better,

Except you do,

You know you do, yet you play the hand that you don't...crippled by indecisiveness.

You stand for peace, love, and care on the broken leg of a stool, you're rocking back and forth.

The current right before the storm.

You were supposed to be the umbrella.

You were supposed to love and be loved.

But look at you now. Stare at the portrait you wanted and created.

A mix of jagged rocks with the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg.

How could you be honorable when you rupture with your words from the inside out?

You deceive worst than the eldest snake...your venom decoded as syrup bringing a slow death like you were controlling the pace with your finger, killing them softly with your song?

Look in the mirror. How do you call yourself authentic when you decieve even yourself with the narrative you weren't brave enough to follow.

Your love is a lie. Your passion fabricated to make others feel better and for what end? You destroy them with your goodness, and you're left to drink the poison you left for them...because you're thirsty for the love you don't know....for the love you thought you desired but had no idea that with love comes a choice...

A choice to do the right thing...to speak with vulnerability. To follow standards and traditions. To stop running from a fear you created.

Look in the mirror and charm yourself for once. Sip that poison. Inhale that narrative of the sad lonely boy that just wanted love...and when he had it he ran from it to another. A coward in a man's body.

You knew better...you know better...and yet you hold the remnants of all the hearts you broke, including your own.

This is your bitter end, to stare and reflect. To express all their pain to yourself. To remind yourself of how cold you have been. Apologize to the ears that no longer hear you. To the eyes that no longer smile when they see your picture or see what you have to say.

This is the price you pay for being the bad guy purposely, in a lover's story...

Remember that the sword through your chest was always yours

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Grand Rising! Another snippet of a Time Drop for Yall.

You know your life purpose and stand tall, unwavering as the Cap is twisted off.

So many lips kiss you and and suck down what you have to offer, a quiet lust satisfied as you fill us with goodness we would easily ignore if we didn't need it then and there...