Death puts it in perspective.

As does exercise.

What cares, when happinesses these?

What annoyances, muck and sound of day, when

stoned on morpheme, phosphene, and endorphin?

One violating unbreachable man code.

Two waiting on molten stairs for

a kiss according to rock and roll history.

There are chocolate flakes on this table.

Or dirt.

Are you brave enough to lick them, new melted, from your wrist?

Are you?