Time gets away from we that
Have much to long for.
Framed in a fortunate blaze by
Degrees and sections we see ourselves
Stock still, stopped motion,
prolonged history rewound
And binding together the cadence
Of every feeling felt all at once
In the circumference of our lives.

That sentence is chock full of
Elongated bullshit.

Feeling is real.
Feeling is a great friend,
A fond liar,
A tall teller of stories past and present.
His best friend is Memory.
They often laugh at our expense.

Feel and me war much.
It's a tough battle of high praise
And words and fooling one another
In and out of choice.
Choice is the boss.
Choice doesn't care who wins.
He's only there to see it through,
No matter who brings the argument.

Choice is a necessary asshole.