curbdrop out of grace

jane, this is a train of thought exercise

sometimes the bees from the mouths of babes overflow into the ocean causing tidal waves of catastrophic success, peaking in the success of our mistress. the mid-life crisis, representative of half full or empty, whichever birds eye view will never be mistaken for youth. why would you wear that sweater knowing the heat and sweat you trap will fill your face with the vain attempts of dehydration? the frustration confusion flowing from the light shining beneith the bedroom door with noises above the little angelic creature hovering between your subconsciousness. don't feed the pets or they will come to love you. don't love the pets or they will disappoint and once you go black you will never reach all your dreams with one handful. try a shovel or a friend and the lover said she wanted to be friends but friends don't let friends eat alone on the sunniest of afternoons i remember seeing you once and then you were gone but you weren't ever there because the figment of my predicament constructed faith from the hope for more than you expect or the will to draw the middle straw will vanish into paper thin air ports remind me of that song hovering about and away like cheap hookers off to fuck a buck oh why cross fingers and smile when holding up banks at gun point less and forgetfullness collide into one like the stars once did before gravity decided to give a care. there will and never was but that does not inherit responsibility enough to curbdrop her at the cracks of cement before the abortion clinical psych is for the followers of a jesus that will not guide you to anything that isn't there if you were blind. or are you not?

posted by fillshe @ 10:44 PM