(no subject)
This past weekend was rainbows and dirt under my fingernails.
This coming weekend is death and sadness.
All the while I'm being told stories about how I love, have loved, and will love. I'm knowing things long before I'm feeling them. If I ever found something perfect, I'd destroy it.
Burn that shit to the ground.
There was a once-every-twenty-years full harvest moon tonight. It was rising while the sun was setting. This may be a metaphor for something, but I haven't been paying attention.
I was at home alone, full of beer, and leering at the sky from the roof of someone else's house. I wanted the moon to be big enough for me to throw bottles at, but it was hidden away behind the neighboring house. My empty bottles have, instead, piled up on the kitchen counter.
Instead, I put the chickens into their cages and thought about killing them and eating them someday soon.
This coming weekend is death and sadness.
All the while I'm being told stories about how I love, have loved, and will love. I'm knowing things long before I'm feeling them. If I ever found something perfect, I'd destroy it.
Burn that shit to the ground.
There was a once-every-twenty-years full harvest moon tonight. It was rising while the sun was setting. This may be a metaphor for something, but I haven't been paying attention.
I was at home alone, full of beer, and leering at the sky from the roof of someone else's house. I wanted the moon to be big enough for me to throw bottles at, but it was hidden away behind the neighboring house. My empty bottles have, instead, piled up on the kitchen counter.
Instead, I put the chickens into their cages and thought about killing them and eating them someday soon.