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Vertical Prose


34.28 @ 12:16 am




a perfect day
the weather
the winds

watching the clouds pile up

pile up

black billowing smoke from time to time
my face rubbed in my own piss

grey clouds
bright white clouds
hurts my eyes
I'm used to the white of my dimmed screen

have I given up?
am I living like I've giving up?
do I ever believe I'm living?
how often I forget. . .
how often since I felt it was a blessing than a curse

"...the one that you feed. . . "
the wolves in my heart
sure
parables
but it's just as simple as making choices
I remember when that seemed simple

but now
every now

choose hope
choose love
choose life
choose beauty

it's a perfect day to choose joy
the best idea I ever had

. . . I must have left it in the pocket of those pants that were in a bag that got stolen with my other precious things

"he'll never return it
we'll have to make new love"

 

Vertical Prose