October 12, 2019

It would come at moments so quiet; our ego’s pulse would sound.

The silence in realization we are here was all we ran for.

It would be an hour of power, for us, by us, and forgetting bones so untough.

Each word we breathe was a quail.

To syphon the others’ attention vail.

The one hat which lay atop what thoughts they stop.

Begging in silence we have words you’ve unthought.

Here is your destiny; fail in the preset bravery.

Become one as the channels let him be.

I am not of the be all you could be.

The respect, however, is in me.

You are me – I structure through a doing.

No one gets it but me.

Encrypted codes for lineage to see.

Not even I can read me.

But eventually they’ll see what it meant in thee.

-Budd

Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes to encourage readers to explore the depths of their inner ocean, an unexplored self, because it's fun once you get through the emotional part... “The world around us is our vehicle, what you'll read is how I digest it.” -Budd

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