Yet I use it all the time. The weather? Check my phone. The time? Check my phone. Calendar? Check my phone. How many people died today? Check my phone. It’s so exhausting. Everything ha...
Ah, my sincerest apologies. I have a tendency to drop dead In front of gorgeous women.
Around her neck Hangs an emerald line, Dotted with sun-facing flowers; Silky smooth, speaks her mind. This line brings this poet
In an instant she turned to ice. I fired myself to thaw her. But she was too cold
Crush my heart And take from me The very passion that is my soul; Rip it out And leave no doubt
Humanity is a tired, jaded, dirty face with bright
Listen closely to this, mine beati… Thumping with passion, imagination… My longing onto you it does impart In the tuned key of deep adoration… This rhythm of love, it came nary…
Smile at me you vixen, melt me and step your red stiletto in the puddle,
Is it too much to ask for, The self being contained Under the snow of your eyes Reaching out, never quite grasping The height of the situation.
Progression or depression, it depends on the portends. But never regression.
Yellow-green leaves lie still Upon the concrete ground. Cars are parked, People are sparse; It is the afternoon.
I can see you’re still bleeding. I would like to dress your wound, my wound. In my haste I now realize, I bleed too.
I shot the president and he melted into a pool of ice cream. Yummy!
The words, the hate Flies, no, spurts Out of your dull mind Faster than comprehension Allows you to filter,
I believe music is the tragedies o… micro-dosed to us. A chord change to minor ends with us crying, a picardy third
