It's too late to act like you don't know me
I thought the moon called us both. I thought you would arrive heart open splayed yelling about creatures not yet born. I thought there was safety in hollowed out eyes but the womb lies deeper. And cozy not be. A flicker of the old senses, a smell that reminds ancient dirt of air. Remember?
A question better left to archeologists not those trying to tread what's left of their lives. If there is anything but the past that is. But of course old tongues taste sweet, there is no candy produced with the kind of sugar that the here and now defends.
That but it is brown. That but it is white. That but it is raw. That but it is.
That but it will come close to the top of the inside of my skull and drip. I've taken to thinking of hopeful things without any road signs. I have taken to writing things that don't truly express what I feel. It would betray me later I understand. Expression falls short of the bubbling magma that sits dormant pressurized stagnantly charged with glow.
Don't pity this poor writing, it is mere expression with premeditation, as meaningless, trite, pretentious, assuming and bankrupt as I am. So turn your noses up, up and up until you hear a snap.
That but it is hope. That but it is cope. That but it is rope. That but it is nope. That but it is.
A question better left to archeologists not those trying to tread what's left of their lives. If there is anything but the past that is. But of course old tongues taste sweet, there is no candy produced with the kind of sugar that the here and now defends.
That but it is brown. That but it is white. That but it is raw. That but it is.
That but it will come close to the top of the inside of my skull and drip. I've taken to thinking of hopeful things without any road signs. I have taken to writing things that don't truly express what I feel. It would betray me later I understand. Expression falls short of the bubbling magma that sits dormant pressurized stagnantly charged with glow.
Don't pity this poor writing, it is mere expression with premeditation, as meaningless, trite, pretentious, assuming and bankrupt as I am. So turn your noses up, up and up until you hear a snap.
That but it is hope. That but it is cope. That but it is rope. That but it is nope. That but it is.