Stream of Consciousness

And the world, I swear, this is such a random, crazy place. The way we are, the way things happen, the way we separate from each other and fall back into place somehow—I tell you it’s all crazy.
I swear it is.
We spin around here on Project Earth and find ourselves, in full circle to be exactly where we’re supposed to be.
Some call this cosmic, some call this fate, and some say this is all just consequence.
Know what I say?
I say this world is a random, crazy place.

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Just Sayin: (written before the workday)

And now it’s me, early morning, tired and wishing I was someplace else. But yet I am here, of course, exactly where I am supposed to be.
Then again . . . where else would I be?
I have come to the conclusion that we are all inherently and internally crazy. We are all crazy in our own perfect little way, which is not to suggest that crazy is a bad thing.
At least, not as I see it.

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From Sessions In The Balcony: Insomnia Poetry

I cannot say why or how or if I know for certain.
I can only say that I know my love is real.
I know my love is real because

I feel it.
It lives and breathes. It feels and it weeps.
My love is a laugh that I could not live without.
It’s a soft touch.
My love is the feel I get when I hear a name and I realize,
at last, I know I’m not alone.

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