Truly Scraps

So, I keep track of bits and pieces of things that cross my mind through the days.  Sometimes it's entertaining to put them together, even if they don't make all that much sense.  Welcome to a train of thought.  My trains don't need tracks.

Truly Scraps:

Do you ever catch yourself becoming convinced of your imagination?

Pouring homophones through gramophones and ringing tones and grinding stones beneath our bones. 

It doesn’t make the right sense when the pieces aren’t all right.

But you’ll be alright in the end.

Comets are the tears of the stars.

Funny how tears go down and tempers go up.  

There’s plenty of water under the bridge.  

Plenty of fire in the sky.

A glance at the trees might remind the travelers how small they are.

Seeing the iron path,

The cold rush of blood sets my bones on fire;

Or the days that passed with colors ripping past the borders of all thought.

What somethings speak with subtle voice when hearts are left alone to chase the fleeting years?

The memories of life that barred the dark of nightmares past; prayers that fractured fear.

Listen to the crack of my weak-side ankle jabbing at the walls of the museum.  

It reminds me of the echoic crack in my heart: because I’m there alone.

The joy of discovery isn’t bound by the laws of reality.

How do you stop the pendulum swing?

It’s like watching a cheese grater do math.

Watching butterfly dreams; sitting on a tennis ball imagining it’s the world.

This morning I felt warm and saw snow.

It’s difficult to write on small pages.