Or better yet it comes. Rolling in like a GOD damn tsunami. Prepared or not. Seasons do change. Forgive me Lord for taking your namesake in vain, but these veins running the metropolis of my biological city carries the reasons why I do and do not want those Fall leaves to fall. The reasons seem to never truly change cause change is the hardest thing in the world. Don't make a promise to do such if you know you are still holding on, trying not to autumn off.
What the fuck are you holding onto though is the ponderment while I'm wondering, looking at you questioning the laws that govern the direction that you are moving in. Thinking in. Or not. Systematically stagnant.
Stunted by blunting.
Renewed visions by noose asphyxiation. Why does it take damn near dying to alter missed-conceptions? On the eve's eve of my born date, it's a cool 68 degrees in the NYC and I'm a bit layered up. Entering GOD's hour, ready to shed these extra layers if need be. Feel me?