Full of intriguing possibilities to amaze my future
And make the faults of success never too hasty
For a comedy of soothing personal tragedies.
The headaches answer my apolgetic insults
And fill me with two inevitable mistakes
That are doubled masks of tranquility.
Salvation is a tricky drink of bitter wine and poison,
A timely rescue that can only come when the Fates are ready
To quench the burning futile flames of tobacco.
Four twenty comes and it's time for another fix
The world surrounds to claim another work of beauty
Lungish brains will cope with the straining transcendance.
I cannot help the task of readiness in my heart canopy
It is too big, too wild, too needful of resolution to quit
Its heroic battle against itself, the unequal nature and needs.
Is there a communion trial of help that will steady this balance
Forever change the loaded dice that are my desires trinity
And make those timeless fainting joys more easy.
Perhaps the rite of love will come a stumbling as grace
Falling as from above to appease these hurried glances of happiness
For once and then forever to make a good life of me.
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