a transaction

i like to call a fee for living, or how words get scrambled to make a piece look alluring. dirt gets reframed as a unique blemish, a marker for the gifted and thus counts not as a crack in smooth marble because trees aspire to reach the sun, too close they get burned, like icarus but most do not venture that high for the hurricanes, the typhoons, the clouds themselves would break such endeavors. try branches do, to rise against the heavens to find that warmth, never realizing that too much heat becomes fire, becomes death, such a concept is not cognitively known, awareness brims beneath the surface unable to find air, oxygen, truth finding contentment, laziness, hedonism finds the entry doorway filled with cheerleaders eager to boost team morale, a ghostly smile, a lost soul, a cracked jar smashes - still the crowd hears, sees what is to be believed, and what is to be believed? is it not more heat, more warmth, glory even to rise higher ... ... words scrambled, emotions played to cause glitter, shine, a surface untouched by dirt when belief becomes the means to an end. heaven to be found within a story, and i found myself brushing hands with the devil who looked like a saint. it is hard to tell these days, who goes by what, i am dazzled by the influx of data, words scrambling and a ghostly hands reaches out, aye, aye i felt a shudder in my soul. do you hear, see, feel? then even that image was taken from me, the veils parted, closed again with the sun bearing immense heat on earth wanting to union with a god.