time for new stories
misery. oh how you lie to yourself. I have a few things to tell you, and of course I think I’m to blame… especially because I don’t love you that way. this isn’t the first time you’ve heard it. I cannot pretend.
there’s just too much sharing this ugly wet blanket. I like being alone. I like it cause it leaves room for something down the road, something quiet with subtitles… something youthful.. ..willing to grow. I don’t like the way you lie… jealous of another tomorrow. I have told you before love don’t feel like misplaced words… living your life in reverse..love don’t feel like getting arrested over and over again… I apologize for making you think simply by being that I wanted those cuffs. misery made me an apologist
love isn’t afraid, its honest in the way our past is the past .. things we’ve done. things we are dipped in. the paint and the odor of our lives. love climbs the tree, picks the fruit and suffers the damnation, suffers the loss. love suffers the fishing line snapped, suffers the sunset and the slow movement of the mule carrying you home, carrying you back. love made me a realist
my thumbs are rough dragging those tears away from your eyes. those tears are angry and therefore just words tossed… you are arid….you wanted to attend the deaths and applaud the men as they died, reshuffling your memories as you grew old…. you grew distant….you spoiled on the vine.. I ’m sorry.. love suffers the truth. someone has to pay. you have altered the water burning in that gas drenched rag…
love gave me the weapon, I watch it grow rusted in the ground. love gives me an answer and the stardust is apparent, what divides can unite..it did not appear too late to me, it is prompt and I am growing slender with it. a quiver of bows and a bowl full of honey. I am growing slender in it — — Moses in the Wild
