6 a.m.

A.M, Six a.m.

Another Saturday night gone into the keys.

And this hole in my chest keeps growing.

A lasting embrace is all we need. A chance to be wrong. A chance to be right.
Acronyms and similes are poor protection. After a thousand years, it won't matter.

As the last haze whispers and floats into the morning, I stare.

Away from here, to such great heights.

But this is not home. Stop. Turn back your clock. Stop. Set your Alarm. Stop. Your ideas have suffered enough. Stop. Avenge your inner child. Stop. Exercise. Stop. Exorcise.

If I could marry this chord, I would, and have symphonies of children.

Pure Fuckin' Bass. Fragile, Stripped, and Bare Digital Sine Waves echo through my head. They are trapped in our hearts. A heart that shines and burns in our moments of being lost.

Outstretched limbs from the family tree create shelter and shade, but I need to shake my root, and soak in the sun.

Chase it wherever it goes. Cast a reflection back on the holy waters that filled my lungs.
And breathe slower. And slower. And slower.

Until the sun is gone. and there's no more light to chase. Asphyxiation writes me out.

And the void from my chest implodes. The curse has scratched and clawed out; tooth and nail.  The continuum draws in.

The rules and arithmetic are broken, the physics are battered and torn.

Its 6 a.m.

The Ethics have turned Into Dust.

~Jai Daniels.   2010-06-18 @ 0635