aint no mountain but the past i cant get over.

Sometimes its like There Aint No Mountain High Enough

but other times, its like "Jesus, just call me already".

not sure what valley they're talking about

probably Big Valley

because I miss it there.

as far as rivers go,

I'm a river. And I have a river. And I have seen a real live river before.

It was nice.

So crispy benjamin franklin

come over and we'll chat

about why you like to make people hurt each other

exchange credit default swaps

to gamble on nothing but our own

demise.

but if I had the ben franklin i'd

jump in my fast car

and make a deal

to have nothing to prove.

I just really miss that dazzler.

i miss what we once were.

Today I let Picasso make me anxious.

No matter how I turned those cubes wouldn't square into my realm of what's real.

So finally I decided to let Picasso be right.

and,

sure enough

There was more to be seen, than just my sight.

my fingers tap me into rhythms of the present

and at night i dream that i cant fall asleep.

my creationist primordial soup of a brain.

Am I undergoing the process of becoming boring?

Of exploring so much learning that I get lost in the loquacious print of hand-me-down books?

Or is this what I've always wanted--to have a mission I'll gladly pay for?

but now this keyboard has felt more of my touch, seen more greens in my eyes than you.

tgif.