This is just one iteration of a million million million different versions of this life
Dimensions like clockwork, round the clock, zap to and from where you are to where you become
This version leads to this, and that version to there
Only somewhere magical once lands the trees and the forestry in a blue, murky lagoon.
Over whence way we have a sunlight, and fire, as the flames burn historic wooden house as the rescue, sirens wailing away into the bitter night
I miss you, she says, the cold frozen chessboard sits in front, between a familiar face of hopeless bitter snowflake
Bitter is better, as wood stirs through the night, smoking warm pipes of hot warm blankets on a December eve.
These stories we tell, they last on the bookshelf
Waiting patiently for the next person to see
What a bold misstep once made mistake
has churning into itself
Choose an adventure, choose wisely, choose the next step as you would a piece on a board
This puzzle locked clock of life we breathe
Rock solid, hard, foreign, unfamiliar miss honey and dew melon is telling the same story again, and again
Iteration number 5 please
Where are we? Adventure?
This place has aliens in it
Let’s get the fuck out of here