And so,
my cure becomes your curiosity.
Caught up catapulting questions,
wrought by moss and animosity.
Always aimed at my ankles,
with quite cautious velocity.
You all too often know best,
though the worry’s awfully lost on me.
See,
lawful thoughts like these,
I’ve tossed aloft for ten years.
Though they’ve only slowed the oil,
till it stopped,
and caught round rotten gears.
I dreamed,
of a little heat,
to warm my feet,
so the liquor’d let me go.
Seems I’m still incomplete,
kicking my cold seat,
though I know I’ve found my home.
Lawful Thoughts
Dim Opus 