Will Happens

With all the space in the sky, chances of collisions become exponentially remote. Just when you place the down, it blows wide open with splinters. The burn of the sting after it stops bleeding is what ignites me. The volume high over the door is like missed post-its, where the sound just misses your satellite dishes by some incalculable finger strung tone. The difference between you and me is the pace. Do you enjoy fresh herbs in your soup or peppers under your tongue?