Food on thought or food for rot

Aaron Johnson

I forgot what happens when you don’t mean to practice

And that it might not mean a thing to the other team

It had been so long since I let the ball bounce in my court

I forgot what it felt like to submit to carless thought

We let things in and by like a paid guard on a security line

Letting words and knives through on a telephone wire

Seeking out the colors on the shelf, painting’s can happen without help

And it forms, and forms and you don’t mean to conform at all

To that pattern of this weary and fragile pale style of silent mile Long paper receipts,

For things you can’t take back or exchange or even keep,

We end up buying more fine lines to decide the fate and place

Around the existential thoughts that bleed our banks dry

I just want to be depositing these franks and dollars and cents

I know it’s only for rent; your space is a mansion on a hill the gates unbent

With a fountain to be unleashed and replenished as it’s spent

As it’s washing away others tears or fear and repent, this life is for living

I say the living is for life, that your living is for life, what giving is to right,

And what apology is to fight. It’s worth its strife in Gold, my words hopefully not

Spoken to bold, but as food for thought as this life unfolds into the palm of whoever

Decides to hold on tight with me what a sight it will be.