Pacing Himself

He’s already traveled miles in his thoughts...

all while pacing around the kitchen counter enough times to cut through the tile. As outsiders, try to enter the private amusement park in his mind, banging on the gates, uttering the password “dude what are you doing.” Little do they know that this password is a false code, given to those who are forever branded as trespassers.

He is a master of disguise, hiding behind a mask of secrecy that secretly he himself has never fully seen behind.

Sometimes he finds it just fine. Most of the time he finds it just plain frustrating; infuriating that over half the pesticide

pill-filled places

fumigating in his brain

are left unknown to him.

But these places within are not all unknown; he has seen snapshots of some them. Whenever in the light of a bus ride down 5th avenue, or on a fire-walk upon the coals of his neighborhood block, or even under the single flame of his own company, the light sometimes shines at just the right angle to make out blurry faces of clarity.

Those moments are extravagant, exceeding rational roadblocks of social demands; the man made road-maps that fail to tap into the tapestry of his masterful secrecy.

These moments matter, their meaningfulness only able to be measured by the treasure of golden threaded insight and intuition, interwoven into the fabric of his being.

He has the heart of an honest priest, repeatedly marrying comedy and philosophy together in a holy matrimony that goes against the church of conformity.

He breaks past the limitation of any infj personality profile, or Standard Assessment Test on file, meanwhile making up his own exam, which he has titled “There’s nothing wrong with me Adam...it's not autism, I’m just a bossman, okay.”

"Okay Pete...hey Pete?

Did you know you stand as one of the biggest examples of being an honest to God individual that I know who does desire structure, but is willing to go with the flow as well?"

I sometimes fail to tell him that I understand; that I comprehend why he must defend against the endless onslaughts of outsiders; how when his mind is questing through questions, often pacing is the only way he can pace himself

in any way, shape, or form.

Instead

we fight each other like we're on that histories channel show Vikings,

But Despite This, the router of Truth he and I both pursue will always keep us connected as brothers in the same beautiful struggle, so that during times of triumphs and troubles he will be able to remember that here ,on this world wide web called reality, lies those...who know why he’s pacing...will not judge him for it...and will love him because of it

Because that's  his rhythm

His version a of whistle while he works

So take your tiiiiimmmmeee peter

It's okay

Live life at your own speed

Just make sure

that you remember

To pace yourself along way