(no subject)

[_broken_dreams]

In every picture our faces are smashed
reflected future through shattered glass
where every bit of the window pain
just added the sparkle to our champagne
leaving our throats countless slits
making it moist for your words to slip
right down your hill of bullshit

In every monet the smear is clear
Or, is that a mask? Or, a symbol's crash?
the landscape smuthered in fire
and I watch the brush strokes go undone
in a glorius color run
I picked up an awkward shard
to color myself avant garde
an got some hard criticism
for having artistic autism