a face in a cloud, no trace in the crowd

"but where a young man will forgive the stray, an old man will cut it out. youth always tries to fill the void, an old man learns to live with it."

my void is inspiration, or the lack thereof. fingering the pages, i find a voice of absolution screaming for attention and a [paradox] with which i am sorely accustomed. a new apartment and a knowledge of the scene keeps me from ever truly knowing who and where my true friends are. where my inspiration lies is in a book unwritten, a passage unread, a song unsung, and a painting not rendered by God or his constituates.

if not beggar, label me mercenary, patiently waiting for someone to either:

a) save me, or
b) appraise me.

def believe nothing more than this quote out of context.

"cameras or guns, one of ya'll is gonna shoot me to death."

time (when all else fails)

time chimes in
with ticks talking,
stalking men,
chalking outlines,
and shocking sins
into submission; when
all else fails,
bail.

show me a boat unsailable
and i'll show you a love infallible

time makes men of boys,
tools of toys,
sins of joys,
fables of stories,
lovers of friends,
graves of men,
weapons of pens,
and a welcome relief
of the lion's den.

but take no solice,
it won't come soon enough.