Sunday January 1st, 2017 – 4:20 am
Life is just a meme, her dreamer and creamer for breakfasts and wakes and shakes and bakes and sad garage songs for lungs and sinners. Scales on her blue red eyes and empty weighted cries for promises of waited progresses and her broken hearted dreams and visions and screams of schisms and chasms cognitive and “God said this.” Broken mind to force the shine out, the ugly brilliance of porn inpiritus we all like to feel good about, those old paths worn and warn of heresy and hope and whoring doubt. I’m scared to say the killing words that border in any order. God. Please. Heal. Forgive. Save. Teach.
Ninety nine bring hope and high and still I only cry for the lost one each night.
Shepherd her heart has broken mine a thousand dyings trying to wrestle reason and rhyming and text too late in the climbing. Fallen by the side. Cut off from time. To longer time to dying on the vine. Are you even trying? I’m not sad about you losing me. Just that I didn’t get one last chance to tell you how beautiful you are. And brilliant. And your heart will birth the lights in all of us and save a thousand others and your children’s children will be known for their strong mothers and loving brothers and their never ending kindnesses.
I painted a fairy tale, nothing but morals and truth.
When the magic blows away, all my love that will remain is in you.