Sheet Music

I am trapped in an upside down divorce of the soul and the heart of pity;

I know the way to say twirl or  "I" know that distress is not my call.

I have a cosmic phone to the land of the lawless and numbers to all.

They say that the voice makes no vocal sound.

The debate over a minds thought should be counted on one dial tone.

Placing what is important on the line that has no gold filament to portray for use.

Instead you would just say that I have the wrong number, I'm dead.

Weather permitting on the insistence of a coded fall

I would tell you to go to Hell

find your number, stand tall and know that you are on your way to a taste.....

what is not paid for, but developed by disgrace.

Saturated and immersed in the personality of what?

Just ball.

It is directly in front of you!

A friend disconnected for reasons of Dan.

A Biblical Repent!

A chance to roll the dice is not gambling on the roulette wheel.

Spinning you out of shape in a single bad luck call.

Take your cross and burn it at the feet of the last, second earth roars.

Snap the buckles.

Strap on to the boot of satisfaction, not of sin.

Forgive not yourself!!

For that would be counterproductive to what you did.

In my sleep of no factual gain, I remain robotic in response.

Release what is yours,

just to know that freedom is the cost of your Phen.

Die destructively.

Major key!! 

Play the notes of an heirloom treble cleft,

not of the Lions velour.

Slip into the depth of what is mauled.

Drumming? Cat guts twirling string.

Strung for the Harpists dream.

Playing a concerto of the minds eye,
gives sight to the workings of an original idea,
in process, by design and balanced, timing.


Metronome.
An hourglass of rhythm is sine.
Counting the grains of sand in audible rhyme.