the most beautiful thing: tossed
Tossed into a beautiful soup. A beautiful hot bubbling soup. A stirred to perfection, no perfection brothy bumpy soup. Dropped, tossed, sliding into a never never perfect rapidly bowling, rapids bubbling, rapidly nothing, never everything. Rapids split-second search moments love seeker. Under rock, no that rock, moving it’s moving, target boiling to the bottom. Tossed in, bubbling to the bottom, breathing oxygen out of doubled hydrogen. Hot. Cold. Warm is best. Warm. Stirred warmer than blood, warmer than perfect warm. Tossed in, bumped out, bumped over, sweet surrender to current unyeilding but warm. Rapid replacement of god to hell and bounce up between the high and the low of it. Tossed and tossing. Lost and losing all the right things. All the right things. Tossed into not possible perfection, tilting just enough, just enough, just as it should be – warm. just. brothy. wonderful. here. Soothing the need to simply walk away.