I was doing nothing one day, and wondered what defines accomplishment. Is it the doing or is it the nothing? I have many thoughts that are as impressive as they are profound. In the alphabet, the letter C is a neighbor to the letter D. In my head, I am so clever, that on occasion, I trespass into the flower bed of being devious. Is that travel or is a destination? Perhaps, I am a carrier, spreading the cheer of the unholy. The proprietor is not as profound, and is not up for debate or even apologies. The wired mesh is a clear indicator of his feelings on the matter, but then again, there are gaps in the boundaries, so is it of faulty construct or an arrogance in the assumptive message? There are other people on the block and there are other defects in their reasoning. The ones that have the biggest yards and most vibrant landscape are the most interesting. They offer free passage and even encourage it by distinguishing the plants with placards. As if the scientific name and the place of origin is enough to make me come back, more and more each day. Cars do slow, but they never stop on this side of the commune, it is uncomfortable for the biggest windows to be facing the street. Without protection, the homes and their grounds remain immaculate, yet the single fence detects and catches everything. One could interject that if this were a riddle the owner himself was actually the trap. However, in anger and blood, all verbal plays are buried with the dirt and the staked wood that is used to defend with more intimidation and reinforced vigor, all that is perceived as having value. I am one of the few that actually knows that sadness is not an emotion or a disease, instead it is a loophole that naturally occurs within the realm of obsession. Fourteen years ago, I was born, and the garden was as colorful as wet lights pulsating between each swipe of a wiper blade, lined with decorative stones that were not lined up to bully, but rather to be part of the parade. And now, as I give in to smaller meals and longer naps, this fence could protect any castle against even the most intensive Viking siege, but the grounds are flat and not even the weeds have enough willpower to pander for a single cracked rock or a root system that has been disturbed. And both men of the house take equal satisfaction in their neurosis, and perverse pleasures in what the eyes seek and what the actions obey. Criticisms and deflections, the most logical offspring of the neighborhood that is limited to the afforded space of the page. But if I kept at it, would I exhaust the thesaurus or the word count first? In my time left, I will never get around to making even the most basic dents in words and theories that are conjoined or secretly unresistant to meeting up and partnerships that are happy. I suppose that it is good that there is always an audience to be had, otherwise doing nothing would define accomplishment. And I would have to concede that the letter B could yield a strain of awoken thoughts that are not as clever as those that are byzantine.