Charity Roads Broken And Gold

Cheap Plastic Flower Arrangements

Everybody died everywhere, heart shaped bouquet exploded, splintering out onto the highway after everyone left the memorial with their empty flasks, faces like gasmasks, wracked with the grandeur of the banality of death in a trash sack, on the road speeding Mercedes window tinted rolled down for amusement viewings, the ones left already on foot and moving, quickly gauging the temperature, “It must be a thousand degrees where we left her.” Because death is hot and you can feel it like sitting on a radiator whenever you mention her temper or the way she was too soft for the main entrance to the center of sensible feelings censure and before she got mentored, left but not right, right in her last, at last with the tenure, a human with her inventions her inventor-vendors left to her to entertain and threaten and forget to mention her.

Expensive, Expansive Roses Like Deserts Of Gems All Ruby

Don’t play games with Daddy’s guns, do not have fun, sit in your room in the sun and think about what you’ve done to deserve such unimaginable numbness, like a fun dress, wear it proudly, but then everyone sees when a dress is looking dowdy and they might comment or they might break your wrists with metal shackles leading you to the room of time and vomit in your own piss or they might forget to see the beauty you saw in your dress when you first got it and they might step over you on the street like another solid, unmoving object or they might care about how your dress looks and they might want you to read some blue book but these people don’t know, how could they, you washed your dress and it was costly, just never forget that no one can ever wear your dress for you, it is now your fortitude, and with it comes everything and nothing and some more things get dull as you force it blue and you keep trying to remember the beauty of the dress, so red in the mirror, when it was new.

Dumpsters On Small Dirt Roads, Floating In Floods

I hate what you’ve done and it’s hurting my heart, you threw out my favorite art, the art, once a blank canvas, now it’s turned yellow with jaundiced edges peeling out trying to find the sun in the darkness but you could hardly miss all the fun of throwing away treasure, all the beauty neglected made you feel specialer, better, like something that wasn’t nothing that became something in the fire of the specter of the leper, but the leper became your father and your teacher and your sister and your mother and your God and you were exposed in so many ways to the old ways of ancient remorse, but there will be no execution stays, no delays, no half-witted attempts at escape or remission or life outside a broken tent, blowing away in the wind, here and there and everywhere, a cup of coffee and a mint but not a goddamned thing you ever dreamed of is here to stay because dreams are chased away but the thing you crave and the thing I crave, that makes us men, the knife inside us we turn within, have fun at the party but don’t lose your sensibilities, it is the time for empty negotiation and fragility, empty your mind, empty your heart, let it all come out and let something better in, something you thought you needed from the start, something like a dart thrown at a bulls eye in the hardest part of your heart, let’s have a talk and talk about nothing, the silence between us is deafening definitely something but something is often nothing depending on how you shape it so your hands must be careful as you make the stake and try to break it, erase it, if only you could, we all try but there is nothing that good.

Memory Lane

Looking black you always look back trying to squint to see the time you were not coughing, hack, slapped up on smack trying to cure the cold but the winter comes and the winter stays and the seasonal affective disorder decays into something far different and far more okay as long as you have cash and references to pay but look deep inside you and deeper still inside the cold vein, you’ll find you can’t see anything except the first day and the first time you tried to play and that day will remain as it was, perfection caught like a bee in a jar and if you are seeing this far, then I insist, use your romance and your spiritual gifts to encounter what you never missed, which is what you always had in a sense, the lack of anything to make you rich, not dollars or rolex watches, but being watched by those not thoughtless, those that think of you often, think how you might wish you had listened as you endure detoxes and free broken lockets you can tie the necklace like a noose and wear it proudly because broken children and myself and yourself, we all know how bad it had to be for us to go running into the arms of instant epiphanies but you don’t and you won’t because it doesn’t work like that, you just work that sack and make sure it’s fat because after you buy it you cannot ever take it back and with no return policy on this lifetime guarantee you wander around your brain aimlessly trying to find out who did it to you but it’s pretentious to assume it wasn’t you who endured the pain of a thousand wars just to feel like you.

The Crowded Club Needs Insulation From The Climate, Find It

No gestures of disdain, no beliefs in something great, no jumping off cliffs because that isn’t our nature, our fate is that we are in the company of polished men and women but we can’t understand their ways or the way they honk in our direction because our road doesn’t make sense to them and we wouldn’t want it to because it’s our little sentiment so I love you more and you love you less, you found my secret and you found my hope and the great dream we all dream on dope under constant duress, the great equalizer, the hopeful extinguisher of all things that thrive here we just hire more men to tend our gardens, but the flowers are wilting without our care and everything beautiful has vanished into the air and the soil is full of rocks and pebbles and we might have known something different for lack of the devil, but the devil has money and good methods to lock up your pain so you set up an account and got a safety deposit box where you keep your amount but you live in the vault and you are forced to count your pain out every time you are out, but that’s okay because we have the dream, we have the scheme to keep things out of her field of vision and out of our dream, our dream a dam, allowing no passage of water into our vast and cloudy altar, let the incense burn, let the swords rage in storm, let the blood pour, and let your mind soar, let yourself go at the very last moment and you forgot what it was like to be yourself before you went and sometimes I neglect to fervently remember how bad it all felt and why I got this belt and this point across my lap to fix this shit, to combat my wretched case of the feeling of being detached.

In The End, Like The Beginning We Fought For Love And Life Worth Living

So much beauty and so much of it in ashes, tending the graveyard of our past moments so lavish, like pictures we never saw of ourselves in happiness our faces in awe and we struggle to go back like a faceless Macaw, but birds and people are different and then we saw that flying to indifference like the Wizard of Oz, through fields of poppy glowing until they stop, is no different than anything else in life, a nine to five with a happy life or a nine to five with a happy knife, so sappy right? Just allow the fostering belief system you are creating to leave some room for the person you are sedating, replacing but not, because you are blessy, even if half the year your face pours out snot, you are not rotten or evil, you are nothing but a person subjected to the feeling of being feeble and carefully you can make yourself see through all the bullshit you believe is true and then you stand a chance of weathering the storm because in your heart you know there is so much to be mourned in the future of a flower being torn by its thorn from where it rested, never in peace from the wind’s endless indiscretions but let it be known that love is everywhere around you and don’t let the one bad effect of this shit surround you, you can never allow yourself to stop seeing the majesty of the non-ornamental palace surrounding me or you or anyone true enough to stop the pain before it eats you, you have guts kid but “we’re eating too” and isn’t that something that you won’t do? Leave the best of you not to be torn out and leave it so that you are still you when this is all borne out because it can take many things, subtle like unexposed diamond rings in the city of your life you want movement from poverty and it doesn’t bother me that you found the same plague to drive out the bad people and finally build new property but just allow yourself the dignity, no the opportunity, never to lose your sight of what is truly you and what you are truly like because I like you and I think you are blessed, nothing is ruined except for death and I died a few weeks ago and it’s not like they say it is on Saturday night specials where you see a light and angels and halos and temples, but I fight so much fight that maybe I’m blind from getting hit in the temple repeatedly, all the time, just know you’re worth my time and your time is worth every dime, hot bags and shine, it’s all the same to me as long as you love something even if it’s nothing to every other member of you and your city’s citizenry, just stay alive and clutching because in the end all of this was destined and our weaknesses will be rewarded with strength and cunning in the face of our own demise we find that we are wise and we have love and hearts that blind with the power of suns so never forget you are NOT from the slums, you are from wherever you are, and wherever you are is where you should start, start thinking about how you ever made it this far, I know I don’t know but I try to see from afar and what I see is beauty with a scar, and scar tissue is fine just let wounds heal, let your arms lift in the wind as the sun draws you near.

PS: I LOVE YOU AND YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL.

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