Holograms
Disturbing lights at the most quiet hour of the day; some 2 legs humans fist morality 4 limbs of get the fuck out of my way.
Smoking pushing beeping; stealing public property.
And the autumn leaves fall into the middle of the road.
And old lady proclaims about the he she it of this and that time when we used where it was etc… while her soul drops on the cold street floor of I told you not to mess with the mayor and fuck yourself with your golden retriever up or down it doesn’t matter where as long as it’s your country house.
Snails set the tone, some last years orange you still exploite for jam and art.
These poetry lines on your newspaper cover will certainly get eliminated with the low water mark of time.
Don’t bother crying when the next generation forgets you even existed alright?
Now go and hang some laundry in 9 degrees November clouds, we’ll dress up with humid socks for your funeral, just as a reminder of discomforts that’s needed for a careless child who plays while we moved on to stagnation, strange to say but somehow dead.
Lines will not be edited as a draft to live my words like kisses roses I’m planting this very now since waiting for orders has been too painful.
I better get to work and start loving you, as long this hearts commends something to pump further than this ever shrinking chamber.
Hallelujah! some next door gardener shouted when you finally surrendered yo your last chance to fuck and hologram this very early snooze.
Perhaps an orange pie could suit desert mouths from speaking rain.
Just before just before just before..I can’t tell.
