Faire Attention.

Sometimes, it's cut and dry.
Sometimes, lines can be blurred.

Difference without distinction?
No.

Ask yourself, when exactly does sharing turn into outright theft?
Maybe we can figure this out together.

(It's time to pay attention.)

Maybe I'm barking up the wrong tree here.
Wolves and a sheep deciding on what's for dinner?

Weights and measures.
(Take your finger off of the scale.)

Haste, waste, mistake.
Spinning out of control.

(Bathing in dish soap.)

Truth and lies.

Justice delayed, justice denied.

Dyslexia.

Inhale, digest, re-assess.
Lessons of redemption taught during recess.

This land will be called my home forever.
When accepting your calling, forget about "It's better late than never."
(There's no such thing.)

With a bible in one hand, and a bloody mouse in another.
I've learned a lot that I failed to realize while I was much younger.

(Irregardless of your personal beliefs,
there's a time and place for everything.)

When bullets start flying, and martyrs start dying.
There are certain things that need some memorizing.

"Cleaning your bible and quoting your rifle."

Your reaction to truth: possibly dyspeptic.
Your reaction to this passage: possible dyslexic.

One Day.

One day I arrived at the realization that my life had a purpose and meaning.

Click, drag, drop, clear.

Some things should be avoided like the plague.
Some things, like the plague, are unavoidable.

Rolled-up fire and Bombay Sapphire.
Guitar, bass, and a lyre.

Breathe in, breathe out.
Inhale, exhale.

"Is this thing on?"

Deus ex machina.

Face It.

Closing the door on my way out.
Locking it, also, as the crisp winter air hits my face.

The rubber soles of my shoes strike the ground
as I make my way toward town.

Wrapped toastily in a jacket, donning gloves,
hiding my hands in my pockets.

Ears covered by a knitted  hat.
Neck wrapped in a protective scarf.

Looking both ways before crossing the street.
Looking up from the book I happen to be reading.

Stopping for a cup of coffee,
adding cream and sugar to taste.

Checking my watch as I step into the building.
I remove my outerwear.

"It's 9:30 AM,"
I read aloud.

A 5-mile walk?
Good.

Good Morning.

Good Morning, DC.
Destroy, Erase, Improve, now.
Armbar, armcandy.

"Hello..."

"Get this right and you'll be out of here in no time. Age?"
"29."
"No, you're wrong. 31, soon to be 32."

At this rate, an abacus might soon become a staple in my apartment.

Years, cups, ounces.
Millimeters, inches, miles.

2 hours to a pack.
A life begins to burn immediately.

Circumspection, retrospection.
Insight, introspection.

There's no such thing as being born too late or too early.

Mysterious?
I don't intend to be.

There is such a thing as asking too many questions.
Hang it up, disconnect.

The allure of mystery.
Imagination.

Haiku.

Twice bloody knuckled.
Walking uprightly, all day.
Elevator shoes.