so accurate is the time honored standard of loving yourself being integral to truly loving anything external. even truer is that if one hurts themselves they are causing collateral pain to those that care for them.
i don't know if my heart will break ever again but it is certainly sprained.
days like these i wish i was not such a goddamn romantic.
We can't help what we are, and I for one wouldn't want you to be anything different than who you are. For if you were, none of this amazingness would have happened, and make no mistake, as cliche as it sounds, you are amazingness.
ReplyDeleteyour green chair picture inspired me to write this thing, i've been into "flowing" to beats lately so if you imagine it spoken over a jam...it might sound cool. who knows. regardless:
ReplyDeleteshe who has worn it must henceforth adorn it,
allergic to bees but she stings like a hornet.
crossing your path - sans notification -
keeps the wolf from the door,
fangs underscored,
the bare-assed defender of vivification.
she’s the queen bee of telekinetic tantrums, with
heart stringing honeycomb tones ever-faustian,
like the brass monkey strained from your brown baggéd trumpet,
she ferments avante-bastard drained straight from the cornet.
the easiest of breeziest most beautiful contortions,
pierced by the proof, you all best be warnéd, cause she’s
the trophy gypsy of serengeti proportions:
she’ll own your lost hills
and be crossing rivers by morning.
velocity be the tempo,
so tune in to the momentum,
lay down all arms, spread legs wide open.
shooting for kill, they know her forecast is ill:
four fractal bodacious seasons a year,
forever and always sick with the skill,
in all ways forsaken,
the MD prescription
rainbow-chick pill.
I'll second that. (Baddog - MM)
ReplyDelete