Food from Thought

Don’t try to make it sound clever. We’re just echoes anyway. Life comes at us and we bounce it back out.
Tick tock, weary clock.
Running and ranting and hopeless romancing.
So feverless echoes we stay.
That is the natural way.
If you have something to say, get it out. Get it out before it swallows you, Compadre. That is my advice. Emotional constipation is an uncomfortable way of life. And you only have one because
Tick tock weary clock.
March you till your heart’s a rock
in loving and losing and leaving and lives. Living is a risk fiercer than the high dive.
Relish forward motion.
Capsize the weary clock, then unshackle yourself or sink. Don’t you think
that’d be a good move to make this morning?