winning the world cup would heal the loss of that ring

bowing more at a low-flake or no-flake friendship

knowing when to note the manifold of a word

not let down by something way beyond my firm grasp

knowing the full weight of taking in the tidings

overcoming a deep upheaval after years

making a blog as one's own all-around truth-book

running back (calling itself) with nested build-crafts

steering away from any scuffles among brands

feeling like there's always thousands of things to do

needing to drain the swamp in my own life as well

having nowhere far to look forward to going

killing the feeling of still wanting to do more

trying still to learn all the things about it all

clicking on the mouse and hearing it squeak loudly

taking it one day at a time until the end

slowing down and speaking with few words as lost crafts

dishing out keys to go into the big town flat

withdrawing to the cellar for the warm hearthstead

thwarting fast flows of time when the bells strike midnight

waking up to the sound of glee from church singers