the times take from a life,
they rarely deliver anymore
anymore than is expected
postage starts meaning
after the pandemic
the flowering baby, miracles
those are back in town
at least, children are innocent again

the journals we all peep from
are womens feelings, not rights
the intuition a girlfriend told me
thats what she is into
she has a baby, we had a baby
for a little bit of my life
i got to know the intuitive way
but that's not who i really am
the baby is not mine, it's his dad's
and that was love.

time shares it's water with life
and
and you cannot change too much
about that way
about that way where you live alone
i know how to find that way home.