Onward, upward, greener [redder] grasstures.

Radical recurrences & rancorous requests raze my daze.

I really hope this is well-received. I really hope there's some sort of reprieve.

Shadows frighten what one oughtn't be gripping (that thing before/hind you).

On the Clickity-clack Express it's clear I'm always under duress, unless I forget.

Running up that [mountainous-outcropping] because there is none of this that's stopping.

Remembrances past, remind me to pass.

Setting, settling; still seething as I barely breathe.

Rather pointless, rather stilted, fetid; not what we want us going after.

Tales of old springing forth underlying dissatisfaction with current states of being.

Flitter like tittertatter trying to breathe while working, like a mad hatter; the outofbreath feeling rising from recursive reforgettings (or their resemblances).

Abandoning the Abaddon-loathed abandoner opens plenty of reclaimed... everything(s).

Say Om as you reach home only to realize you never really left/stopped saying Om.

Don't ask me why, but I feel we're about to cry trying.

It's time the times met each other over & over.

Your raging romp results only in rescinded regret @ the hands of radder cadets.

Strings together what's strung together (please use yr tether).

Still it's really tall. Still it's really floundering/falling/fading.

Slowed, stowed, achingly retold.

Pounding backbeats beaten by [(Don't Get)] warm[welcomes]th.