Writings from November of 2007 to April of 2009, or maybe the middle of 2010. |
2-3-09 I'm full of what you're wearing now. Sloppy kisses and drunk texts paint you less to be what I want more than I'll ever regret. It's not a prayer you can't hear. I signed off the light like the start of another fight about to end. Packed full of twists and turns so much that you don't know what to do. I be the better man in return by saying nothing in return. This is not again again, and I thought you could learn. My double negatives are expletive. The third wrong making a right like a tired Jesus suffering long completed. An unrivaled believist born with a sunken fist into a storm of socio-terrorists and trying harder to look over it than becoming them. But to be is just to be; so why am I bewildered by the burdens become of me? The end is a holograph. A faded picture of hope-stained lithographs reminding me I'm not at home when home is where I go. A humble cariacture of a cariacture mocking what's gold and meant to be the best for me. All the love and trust veiled by rat thorns and rose tails isn't enough to impale or exhale my symphony of reckless knowing-it-most when it seems I care the least. My heart, my beast, has other intentions in better directions than this one we're in and you know as well as I hope that this is just an ending on the way to where we're next to begin. |