Anarchic Breakfast

Handle life
in the same way
with which you would
a delicate egg.
 
Hold it with care;
but know, also,
that there is a time
to cook
fat omelettes.

A blood red lunar eclipse. A supermoon, they said. But it’s been all hazy gray skies ‘round these parts the past few days. That’s cool, too. I still feel the glow. I feel it all. We all do. We are living in a swamp of energy. Bathing in the totality of everything. I use oatmeal soup, scrapping my skin smooth and clean. But my soul is pure. I just let it rise.
 
A truth beyond the pale. Love within reflects outward. Chocolate waves of intoxication. Sugar high junkie chasing caffeine comfort in the midnight hour. No alcohol in over four months…not in the mood for that type of fermented frenzy in my thoughts at this point…so I enter the lab and cook up a different type of chemical cocktail to chase. What to feed the veins? What to pump with the pistons of my heart? Just words. Just art.
 
There have been times in my life when
it was play, play, play
 
There have been times in my life when
it was work, work, work
 
My end game now is to reach the perfect point
when work and play become one and the same
 
I’m closing in on it quickly. Because the grind is getting fun. It’s about time to dance and sing.
 
Selah,
Scott Thomas Outlar
 
P.S.
If you’d like to connect, please feel free to hit me up on Facebook and Twitter.
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