I’m suppose to be writing the most perfect of poems but am sitting around doing nothing. I’m disgusted by the news on the wire and prose badly written meant to move us to tears. but this is nothing that we haven’t seen before this is nothing that I’ve not written before, it’s not my birthday so there is no excuse and the book on my nightstand rests with the mark on page 309, SO I trade in bonds to pay for new landscaping and feel really stupid and wonder what I will hear next but not from who.
most of all I really want to be stunned and lovely.
fuck the songs that say differently, it is never easy unless it is. Standing out strongly but in fear and not beautiful but gently. It was last Friday night and suspecting that this would be here like it is and I’m not saying goodbye.
here’s to life!
here’s to life.
viva la vida –
a star, quarter,
four fingers of Johnnie Walker
chocking back the innocence
to truly gain perspective.
– Hoc Scripsi
the platitudes of willful resemblance 