Flowings of Your Everlasting Taffyman

a state of being
Some small unused portion and we place upon it such significance as if our dire fated consequences were of some real consequence as if to say “hey look away” and gaily we’d see yesterday, fluttering upon the trembling ocean waves and wonder,
why we allowed the sway struggling against the casual rasp, the wind that day did trump our strength,
and fall and filter out our normal troubles, trembling in soaked blue jeans and craving some sustenance shaking off our hazy gaze we sat admiring our truculence.