Fucking shit.
Life can be so full of it!
Splashed on the corner stall.
Bright hurt flashes for us all.
Hated hearts still catching thoughts.
I don’t want to waste one more second.
Not on that which can’t change.
Not on that which is never to be well again.
Like fun filled plagues and pirate scurvy.
Some things are only pleasure when compared to worse.
I wait to find the purpose of the road.
If there is one.
And if not, all the better.
That will reinforce the obvious.
That the cracks are what is real.
The shadows and the pits.
Baring free the illusions of light and form.
Leaving the empty and the used.
Our loves, ash and muck.
The past a messy mark.
On an uncaring fist.
Poised to deliver.
When ever we foolishly dare.
To care.
