My floor

Right now I'm racing rapid, abstract mind designed by acid
It's kind, but rarely placid, I thrash it
Passionate proactive not passive.
Let's make this massive, jack it up and smash it.
Lashings of loquacious equations lasso the masses.
Massaging the molasses to vapid conscious nonsense that catches.
I want to quanitfy the stashes my massif has turned to ashes
And gases and assets, assess the mess their's gaps and lapses
Not drastic. No longer linger long on perhaps
Remap the project
And dash off odd logic in batches.

Fingers

These days I'm at an age where I look at women's fingers
And could've beens and loves lost can catch a moment and then linger.

I get strung with questions
Watching a man with grey hair chatting to a woman
With a ring finger that's bare.

These days its where your scars show
What was it with the issue
On the chance that made you throw.
Half of them don't know
Blind painters with pallete faces
Traces of misplaced grace
You can't compare with security
You see when bond is their.

We all love love
Get twisted on charisma
Chimera, wish you were there
Long before the wearer.
They say we must be scared of
That, but it feels more like anger
That's the clanger I drop
So its like, I don't cop.

I guess you can take to my mother
Feel she never wanted I for me
With age complicating selfishness
In amongst the wood that's trees.

I said it all before, and anyway
She don't wear one anymore.