Some single sappy shit stuff

I am fond of the risk I take in knowing you, the break, the cracks, the darkest hour, and your laugh.
A laugh riddled in custom.
I am fond of your habits, the hours you keep and the sound of you.
I am inclined to tell you these things, but I won’t.
Not now. I have nothing to give you now.
So in this now, I will laugh with you, drink your tea, and arrive to meet with you.
Learn the crevices of you and eventually risk losing you, loving you.
.........................................................................
On a ball again. Rolling.
With said inspiration and its calling.
Speak to me, I say. Read me
your riot act and pretend
you are listening.
Pretend that this
just one last match, one
last burn before
the rising.
..........................................................................
There is a phone call from a certain
someone that would make all
the difference now.
There are words unsaid
that demand residence
places unseen
waiting in good measure
for my return.
But here, here I sit instead
in the crisp of the sun’s rest
waiting for one call
from a certain someone.
...............................................................................
And I tell you to
tread lightly
because I will
not know how to
forget you or the night spent with you.
The anxt, the caress.
I have to reserve it
all of it, retract it,
and dismiss it.
I am harder now.
Quicker to judge, selective.
I came undone once
fell through the cracks once.
Speak softly to me,
of me, so that I may
step around you,
make sweet love to you,
and forget how to miss you.
.........................................................................

Share your harvested
wit with mine.
We will whidle
music in time.
.......................................................................

Pleased to meet you, scared to know you.
Pleased to talk with you, scared to hear you.
Pleased to know you, scared to love you.

Heaven will have to take note
I think
of our meeting
our beginning.
Heaven should subside
I think
to out perpetual ending.
Heaven will have to
open
I think
within reason.

lil Bix

im a gonna

I'm going to make myself the ultimate cheet sheet and send it to myself
with
illusions of love.
I'm going to walk in the shoes of my father and love football, Notre
Dame;
the grand fight.
I'm going to seek out new places and old faces where the past becomes
viable; that I might meet the dead.
I'm going to sing old songs, love songs. Sinatra and Bing, Louie and
the
blues.
I'm going to capture a little of that glory and fight with the best of
'em
to keep the boss alive.
I'm going to placate every living morsel of old times and discard the
ones
not worth living...
Because there were indeed times not worth living...yet I'm still alive
and
kicking.
I'm going to drown my sorrows and be miserable tomorow but live awake
today
to seek another way to love.

Rich

The best part about failure is KBOO


My Vanguard papers came today in a large package that screamed open me, take me out, surprise! You are Rich Noelle Kristin, Rich beyond imagined hope!

When really what it means to say is: Don't spend it all at the bar you twit, there is a tax penalty you moron, oh and plus also you are taking out your retirement at 25 due in large to personal failure!

So I signed it, I sent it, crossed my fingers and thanked my stars for it. Misfortune comes in all shapes/sizes/amounts. A reminder that cash in lump sums is a deal with devil and I am in his debt.