Letting Me Go

Play outside for a few. Now, where was I? Why can't I juke me out long enough to write something really real? I say I don't delete, only edit, but that is a lie, it's still censorship; and if I call it a cowardice, well, who knows me best? Some of them anyway. Let go? I'll walk the ledge, but I'm never giving up the only crazy I know, call it port, or happy place, or just me in a fetal ball. Rolling on the floor with the dogs. I guess I can understand our love for them more than us, they bite it all better, and I'll incorporate it in to every last post I ever dig, tamp it tight and send it off into the quikrete dark. Which one is the happy medium one? Are you planning to get any more in? Oh, I see.