TO THE END OF THE FRET

To the end of the fret with one step
Fingers ply the riff my mind was sellin’ me.
Words pretend blend and strings bend them 
When I tumble upon the voice within that sends pens melodies.
If tuning in was a seedless point, 
I’d shut the fuck up and roll a joint...
But it ain’t and I don’t have the faintest idea 
What it means to be on the shapeless side of a sound.

Let’s manipulate clouds.
Let’s manipulate mounds of flesh and press and weave the string.
With an energy, boundless, crown-less type’a thing.
Notes that I wanna sing.
Feelings that I wanna bring to you when you step on my truth.

What are you trying to prove besides the fact that I am not you?
If you can’t be me then why are we?
We hurt and flee and fashion to be better.
We tether our intentions to change with the weather whether or not
We’ve looked at the clock’s hands
The fingers that plan.

You’ll mock my position and that’s okay.
Tell me I’m not good enough so that I don’t want to stay.
But hey now, wait! Isn’t this fate?
Some grand romantic gesture to add to your plate?
I’m not ready to wait.
I’m ready to go.
I’ll breath with the wind and run with the flow.

I’ll feign an adventure, go forth on a venture and partner with smarter intentions I crave.
I’ll freak the comics and create economics of pain to take to the soil, to save.
I’m not your common place; commonplace type of face.
You might enjoy the chase and I do too but I do with grace.
A random desire doesn’t court my zone.
A random interest doesn’t define my tone.

My mamma said I am a gem.
Oh no, don’t be bothered, then.
Zen exists and when sense is dismissed 
I recalibrate the time I've kissed, 
I've spent, I've dreamt -
To the end
Of one fret 
With one step.

Copyright © 2018 La LEURENTOP