Tornado; An Owl

Take what you've got, take comfort, in that everything you know, or seen will soon be a non existent dot.

Who'll save the world that claims there is no saving? An illusion or delusion of grandeur. Half of what I

say is bliss, the other half is meaningless. Comfortable lines. Wating for the clock to heal us. Lost and

found, but neer touched. Another beating heart is lost: Interesting lies. Waiting for the clock to heal us.

Alone in our rooms, miserable, a tornado or an owl, come back and isolate the balance. Nothing is

real; your heart on your sleeve, just another lie, transcend the pride, oh the chemicals. Take your time,

nothingness is something and something is nothing.