Birthdays, Weddings & Funerals
Not sure what that was all about, but life seemed to be on and off, to make sense.. if at all a reason to continue.
Cherished calendar, oh I must not dare to miss the chance and miss a memorial, to be forgiving present kills, next pray is waiting patiently and we’ve been sleeping over justification at the court of pleasure.
You see, the news stopped caring for you, and your neighbor asking for sugar.. we’re going backward to restore a lost cornerstone that used to base this foundation, now collapsing as our Pussy Dick novel doesn’t function, or should we say work?
Well, I don’t have anything smart to say so I will be gone fishing for clues on Merriam-Webster virgin anchor.com I am home.
Amsterdam redheads beauties and the rolling weeds.. some pumpkin soup on a grey day for 1 dollar by the Turkish vendor.. It’s all wonderful now, now that our troubles seem so far away.
Who writes? Who reads? Who fucks and rides these ups and downs?
The surf in the flush of my toilet is dangerously curious for the cockroach that jumped headfirst and missed the mirror sign of Narcissism. It’s always in the mirror. The observer who forgot to make up his garden. Too green to even bother a trim, cut, fencing a doubt to believe in?!
The war of carnival, the carnival of war and you asked me for clarity about the menstruation?
No, I do not care, or.. excuse me.. I care too much to even care what is going on with you, my bear cub hug…
