Knowing

The marker was poison for the lips, yet the objectivity of finger tips had nothing on file for the sky to over commit. Like oranges wrestling with empty elbows at a lunch table, too young to even provide a nature towards finger pointing. Broken floors of childrens toys, colors that suggested empty eyes with waves that challenged a boat. The personality driven ruthless and abandoned, whose honesty STOP...  crossing the tracks.  Long rhythmic collisions proclaimed a selfless understanding. The space was occupied and for nothing else.  Move on