Feed your mind what you feed your soul young one. Keyboard your thoughts until the music flowing out of you dances from the opening of your ears. Thoughts. Let them drip slowly like the morning dew ever-present on the green grass. You’ve got something to say… words are like compliments. More like words are compliments. Prostitute your words until all your clients are flushed in love. You can’t own it. Love was never meant to be sold through your gas station window. Let it flow like the never ending river where your parents first became an intention. Knowledge. It’s a tree. It is God.