Hey White Jesus… I say you make wine from this stuff and we all have a party….
Darkness falls on deaf ears.
My nights are covered in lace;
an intricately fabricated pattern
of tales told.
forget to struggle
content to lie
the reward usually depends on the night
some heads, a few lids and the knees of a certain girl
I think a good streaking run would be in order
I have magic that stills clouds and fills minds but a heart is one that I rarely massage„, Wolfie hugs
bring it…. ask here »» ____________?
anon is on but will monitor the stupidity
Blue suit, black tie and shirt resembling dirty water
“Pine boxes don’t sell anymore” he said ” we have one” trickled after
“Wouldn’t you want something better, for your loved one ? He asked
Head tipped right then left,
“Nope” I replied
The box was intended for remnants not body , the box to store my lives of fiction ever more.
Placed the journal on cushion bright
Sleeping my dreams, nightmares and thoughts of past.
Together forever, entrapped away from me but close
“Can you put legs on it,? so I could use it as a bar”
Odd a request to those that live , today , but yesterday it seemed to never be
Life lived words of love and dream may end one day, and yet
A chance of resurrection should be granted to each story
Ending never after