Hands in the cookie jar

Yum. Yum. Yum.

The only telling sign?

Crumbs.

Cut to size. Cut to purpose. Altered states. Altered to make it suitable for a particular purpose. (cd) Anybody’s guess. Anybody’s guise. Humbled but not yet enough to admit wrongdoing. In purgatorial holding until one or another-breaks. Broken into pieces. Broken down to size. To fit other deserving or undeserving.

Be cursed with, be cut to size.

Starved.

With the charm of a wink and a smile, a batted-eye blink and contributing confining bile. Encouraged by the encouragement of the enemy, the frenemy and all shady characters in between.

Favorable favorability of prized picks and social bribes set the tone of the moment, the festivity, the celebration. At the same time, existing on the outskirts of the periphery exist the same motivations and intentions of a forbidden temptations heaved upon another in an attempt to

“level the playing field.”

Hoping, hoping no one hears. The delicious crunching (of the foretold cookies) would take and have another’s life. Torment. Tormenting tales of schemes so colorful the forgetting comes not in the remembering. The goal? Taking away of another’s personhood, livelihood, neighborhood, and falsifying feelings of fraud as if it all was just a dream.

Skimming, stimming and winning.

Point of sale.

Point of attack.

Point taken and made.

Pilfering and counting the revolutions as the propellers on the grand ship force the issue of truth and consequences. Returning change is the goal, of the wicked ways of returning the favor.

One day, journaling met speed and confusion rained and reigned as if to say,

”What just happened?”

Leaving many in the dust of others while the elite never looked back. Conversions, submersions led the way, depending upon which side the coin flipped that day. Some had levers, some had cranks, clunky machines as obtuse as the persons operating the little buggers.

Sketchy accountable practices of inclusion for some while others were wedged and edged out in the harried moment of dwindling profits of explanations and deceptions.

Separation of church and state.

Separation of duties.

Bot are ruled and rule the ways and the days in a per diem-ly managed way as a way to off set the emotional baggages of others used as the weapon of mass destruction.

All in the in the interest of keeping the ball rolling, the dice rolling and the rolling over of the internal conflicts in an attempt to hide behind one another in order the belly up to the bar and not belly down to the floor.

False pretenses have a funny way of drawing in the same persons of the past to coerce them to pave the way for the future where the same old same old occurs. (lk) Misrepresentation of a past or existing fact, argued, debated and skewed beyond any recognizable measure of sanity in order to align with something one never believed in the first place.

Circles. Cycles. Continue. Schemes continue unabated and “fresh.” The more things change the more they stay the same.

Indeed.

Deathbed confessions notwithstanding. Admittance of guilt coughed out like the bad blood with which it was formed in the first place. The stye in the eye clouds our best judgement and arguments of “he said”, “she said” ensue in hysterical and distracting ways to throw the frenemy off kilter.

“Coulda just asked” becomes having to hide behind the inevitable. The inevitable ways the truth was screaming all along while the chosen were moved along.

Maddening really.

Like a small child, who moves with the swiftness of a tiny little bug, thinking he won’t get caught. Foolishly thinking and hoping that someone will help ease the pain of getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Innocently, the child comes up with red stains of candied sugar on their tiny little hands of beholden opportunity. In contrast the stakes are higher for the grown up. The adult hued blood stained residue and residuals come at a higher price, a higher cost because the blood is real. Drained from another and given to yet the better other. In hopes of what?

Who knows.

Apprehensions unsure. The insidious cat and mouse games continues. The game continues. The pit in the gut grows deeper and deeper. A precise X-ray is no match for the gut as truth teller in moments of doubts and confusion and other leap frogging ways of evasiveness and lies of omissions.

Only God knows.

The rules of which we take responsibility and set a personal set of principles and practices in order to live our daily lives. Day to day. Day by day.

We humans do. Know. We just don’t always “like” to admit it. Even if and when we come close, will not always admit it.

The faults.

The failings.

The ignorance with which we choose to look the other way. Hard times have a way of weakening the knees and our resolve to do the right thing.

Instant gratification. The ways we cram our hand into the jar has a way of rendering us immobile . To admit we really wanted it and fake we did not. Want it. Want him. Want her. For our team. Not their team.

Rules are made to be broken.

Rules are made to test our resolve.

In some cases, the rules offer an opportunity to open up the world to even more opportunity.

Then again.

Maybe not so much.

A rule is one set of explicit or understood regulations or principles governing conduct within a particular activity or sphere. A directive. A command. A precept. A pronunciamento.

Draw a line in the sand before the hand goes into the cookie jar?

Sounds like a plan even the most fundamental of minds can wrap their head around.

Just because you can does not mean you should. Rules are instructions that tell you what you are allowed to do and what you are not allowed to do.

For example:

”No shoes” at your house? Means everyone who comes through the door must take theirs off at the door.😮 Publicly promulgated. Equally enforced.

🦶🏻🦶🏻