This collection of poems is a smattering of the illimitable crave for the search...there’s no culmination, no finality. We are temporal flesh, pumping the blood of our hot mess, and we expect this point to hit. Where that's it, we made it, and we ride the relaxation view of the sunset. Not the case, never was, and never will be. These poems, some contemporary, some reflective notes from running like a madman around the nation, all meld together to hit that point of wisdom that lets our skulls sleep easy at night, no matter the bed we decide to repine our heads.
This collection of poems is a smattering of the illimitable crave for the search...there’s no culmination, no finality. We are temporal flesh, pumping the blood of our hot mess, and we expect this point to hit. Where that's it, we made it, and we ride the relaxation view of the sunset. Not the case, never was, and never will be. These poems, some contemporary, some reflective notes from running like a madman around the nation, all meld together to hit that point of wisdom that lets our skulls sleep easy at night, no matter the bed we decide to repine our heads.
