Sit alone in crowded places smiling as you do. Watching lovers being sweet and wonder why not you. Look across the crowd of faces hungry for approval. Recognize the parasites you earmark for removal. Every little comment feeling like it adds or takes. Every reply through gritted teeth knowing how the spirit breaks.

You'll recognize awareness when you see it in a glance. You'll recognize self mastery when you refuse the dance. It scants and skates across the ice as you feel the weight. You can have a little but later you'll feel hate. Nothing lasts forever because forever is a climb. Nobody has the patience, nobody has the time.

None of the laiety could protect, their little martyr. Thanksgiving leftovers were the thing, and there was none to be had but frozen whatever. Family that grand illusion where we hit the mark but never say our lines.

They have aged a bit...

Perhaps foreboding of the cost of my attention slipped when last I held them healthy. But a fool perchance to pray for something better than this waiting for whatever comes.

I'm tired you know...

The rims that hold the drum are cracked for prayers long unanswered, and my hand may yet release the reign that keeps the hound named time away.

Poverty for my thoughts...

No prizes for "superior" anything, and curses for intellect. A fool would count his blessings and be done that all went well.

But I remain to tell.

Gluttony this bagel, that I won't set down. I'm buttering another and wolfing them all down. Microwave burritos, and then perhaps a meal. A bowl of flavored oatmeal, and biscotti's how I feel. I'm sucking down the coffee adding sugar as I please, trying not to drop this bag of cookies when I sneeze. You think I might be kidding, or hope this isn't all today, save a bit for later! Save those crackers for another day, but no I just keep eating for I'm bored and that's the plan. Of course I get away with it, I benchpress all this ham. The trick to staying active is eating while you run, sure it defeats the purpose unless the purpose is just fun. I like the donuts that I get in packs of 6 or 8, I'm 6'3 and look at me I'm actually underweight. I bet that makes you hate me, I am okay with that, you shoot me looks, while I write books, fried chicken doesn't make me fat. Perhaps it's what's I'm doing? Between stacks of pancakes? Sure I eat a salad, covered in those bacon flakes. Some people say it's sinful, a doctor might agree. Hey as long as you are eating healthy, pass that carrot cake to me.

#Gluttony

I needn't say exactly just how old these things might be. It doesn't matter in the least particularly to me. I save them in their varying states of misuse and I work my craft. After the pentium 4 it frankly all makes me the last who laughed. An ssd, some extra ram, I turn them into nobles all. I run them till they burn apart for that is how I hope to fall. No nursing homes for me I think just upgrade my chip, burnish bright my power light and yes replace my hip. A multicore and 2 Gig more I'll lift my sword quite proud and true. You can lay there if you like, that medicine was made for you. Old computers, Linux, and a couple extra drives, I've shorted this laptop once or twice it's still counting lives. Notice though I never said a word about a brand? In Frankenstein they used whatever stuff they had at hand. I will ask you to be choosy though when switching out my parts, let's keep it open source I think, especially the hearts. An HP might run kinda warm, a Dell might last forever, I won't ever use a Mac, well perhaps I won't say never. I like them all enough to try to keep them all alive, the less you heap in to them, the better they tend to thrive. In a way they are like people, at least in that respect, dust them off and help them with the parts they might reject.

Noble creature that you were, for but a day I knew you. I had no concept of your life, or how the world had slew you. In a box you waited quiet, for help that made it, if too late. I know now so much more than then, and think profane your wretched fate. I'm sure you would have hated me, aside from in your final hours. I doubt you would have hung out on my couch and talked about the trees or flowers. I would have probably tried to give you snacks, that aren't fit for owls at all. But that's the impression that you've made, I know quite a bit about you now, and would not give you lemonade. In another life we might be friends, I think I'd like that very much. No mice need suffer for our health, we'll find some common ground and such. I named you for no reason, save that Larry was the name I said. I hope to have such patience when I am nearly dead. I'd like to thank you earnestly for not tearing off my flesh, that was my primary wariness and in that I was refreshed. In retrospect you were awesome, you had dignity and charm. I'd gladly have preserved you, or kept you safe from harm. Of course you didn't know me, nor did I know you, but you changed my opinion of owls and so the world owes that to you. Not that I'm of great means, but an owl I would defend. I knew you but a day, and that day I made a friend.

#RIPLarry

Apparently I clicked publish, a multitude of times. I scant expected that to make those copies of my rhymes. But oh the inspiration on seeing such a thing, my hopes of simple publishing now dotted with gangrene. Perhaps it isn't all bad, twas just an accident, but having read it one time it's meaning might be spent. I guess it's but a trifle, these things tend to occur, but should it happen many times, why that would be absurd. I suppose it earned this narrative, and that has been a plus, I'm off now to make coffee, rather than this fuss.

#Cheers & check out my books on AlwaysInTao.com

I wait all day, I wait all night, make stabbing motions as I write. The things I say, the things I do, they don't much matter, at least to you. It's quiet here, it's quiet now, my speakers low, they make no sound. The coffee smell, the buzzing light, these are my life here, late at night. She was just here, just days ago, now via Skype I wait to know. What will she say, what will we do, I don't know yet, neither do you. Somehow it's warm, it should be cold, I'll end this rhyming, as it gets old. Just one more line, do not protest, I wait for her, she is the best.

>For Debra C.

>By Brian