what tempered justice is this that we discover when goodness reaches its flag towards the edges of the sky, not in a gesture of surrender, but in propogation of war? Do the flowers come into play, or are they a window dressing, like the people we once knew to be well, the people we once knew to be good?
Scatter leaves upon the brow of engine hoods and wipe the dirt from under your fingernails when it is time to travel, when it is time to take off in an expansive flight the color of long roads and various transience. Do not be afraid, they will not hurt you. Do not stay with fear, for fear only hurts the afraid.
Idle quotations among creme wallpaper apartments, glasses clinking to the misery of the impoverished. What beauty is missed, what beauty is fostered, is beauty even a word any more that one can use to describe the disambiguation of the elite?
I smoke cigarettes, which have been trying to kill me for years.
I smile in the moment and frown in the future, for tanks are made for traveling and machineguns are made for stationary words, the rattle of the keyboard staccato augmenting our ancient musics with cacophony of crackling light and sound.
Be with me, someone, and we will move to the North where they whistle on oxen bones and flair their ears with flowers, where they amass their lives like armies in a cathedral, where we scour the pulpit to find the last honest priest.
wellness is a virtue, in body, mind, and spirit. when the three align, you have happiness.
let me speak to you of shallow platitudes that hunger for the genuine, let me remain silent, let me humble myself before the good of humanity and let me lay on the grass with my hands arrayed to accept the vespers of moonlight as light glances across my hands in replete form of soft fingertips and pulsating ivy.
they don't know us anymore, the ones who forget. they forget because of their own lives, they forget because of things, and they forget because they forget.
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