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Monday, April 13, 2015

Death is only welcome if he comes with the cosmos

God is only welcome if her lips drip gold

In between the concrete & the sunset

I find my love isn’t as nostalgic as the majesty of paper folds

I’ve been laying on roads

Watching the clouds roll

Letting cars burnout and tumble over

Baptism in gasoline for this soul

I see the world burning

I keep throwing paper cups of water on it

Wondering if my story is worthy of being heard

Technicolor hearts beating the inside of this skull…away from the herd…nothing but these odd jobs have been so I can purchase

& her kisses taste like skoal…

She’s gonna let her cigarettes burn

I’m gonna die right here…poetically

Potentially ready to learn where reality

Actually comes from

I guess it’s somthing that manifested itself

So self

Build a pyramid on a waterfall

Remember your as important as a single tree in the forest…shady & teeming with life…ready to lose it all to be a vessel or a home

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