my body is a prophecy unfolded before you.
this mourn,
the sun arouse from the seaweed of suicide
fourteen children died before the clock struck
eight 'o four
a man on a pedestal fell in his grave
and an older man on a bicycle pedal
slipped and laid slain on the floor.
a child of precocious manner
and altruistic assent
gained a halo of pure perfection
and somewhere in the far east sat seven saints
all eating handi snacks with that little red stick
I used in nineteen ninety-four
way back when things were better.
before.
cobain was the eponym for all things art-inspired
and catcher in the rye became the reason
I am always freakin' perpetually tired
way back when Iraq was an obscurity no different from Omaha
on a 2 inch thick book
I never opened
back before
when blueberry shaved ice stung my cheeks
and new york city snow burned my knees
when a tree grows in brooklyn stood outside my front door
way back before
I had the consciousness to render mourning from night
in an effort to preserve that which I loved before.
versailles.
the sun arouse from the seaweed of suicide
fourteen children died before the clock struck
eight 'o four
a man on a pedestal fell in his grave
and an older man on a bicycle pedal
slipped and laid slain on the floor.
a child of precocious manner
and altruistic assent
gained a halo of pure perfection
and somewhere in the far east sat seven saints
all eating handi snacks with that little red stick
I used in nineteen ninety-four
way back when things were better.
before.
cobain was the eponym for all things art-inspired
and catcher in the rye became the reason
I am always freakin' perpetually tired
way back when Iraq was an obscurity no different from Omaha
on a 2 inch thick book
I never opened
back before
when blueberry shaved ice stung my cheeks
and new york city snow burned my knees
when a tree grows in brooklyn stood outside my front door
way back before
I had the consciousness to render mourning from night
in an effort to preserve that which I loved before.
versailles.