*Just Go*

My Hon, I can't lead you down your path, my hate isn't the same as your hate, parole granted. Seven years of life stolen will dust off sleeping bag for night sky viewing, music perpetually playing in the background, no matter what I'm doing.

Will sit for hours studying a woman's fingernails as she laughs at me good naturedly and I cry like a baby. Rub the dust off the world all over my body, climb a tree and sit in it wind listening become this mountain man once revolutionary.

I can write with anger and wisdom making points but those nonsensical rhyming verses. Scribbly animals, decorative footprints don't kill me inside like inventing revolution. You can sit and study how - to for a lifetime - making philosophies yours so much authors don't recognise dogmatic hard headedness, the enemy of invention.

Oppression isn't the answer to oppresion.

When weed is legalised after centuries criminalised and gays allowed pink boy scouts. Takes so long to affect change on consciousness. Don't let kernel planting be the death of us.

The day the world doesn't fear stoned people and rainbow merit badges don't upset people. It's the fear of being seen red eyed, limp wristed will parades ever celebrate prison released people? The fear of being criminal begets criminal, similar to sin fearing priests in confessional I see suicide bomber to another martyr. I see terroristic congressmen to your better tomorrow. Shooting stars in midnight skies is where you'll find me. My alibi was with the elk or moon up high.

Measure my alfalfa snow angel officer. Goodbye female bones wrapped around perfumed skin, passion for protection. She my protection, hurt to her is beautiful. Tears fall for her giggling. Stumbled myself into this ten year hole. Just so she can find me and make me whol and a girl needs a bad boy to make life good. Only so many of us can make bad good...

Thirty seven more days. Mind the muddy boob in trees who-whoooing.