Romance is boring.
It is stalwart - a stone
ragged, coarse
stashed in sewers of
coarse heart pipes
trapped in tangles.
It is silent,
frail cousin of moon,
of sun, resigned to stare
out over the fields
scarecrow of emotion.
It's not a river
it has no flow,
nothing to carry
in rows and rows of
atoms splintering,
bursting on one another's backs.
It cannot be a lover,
it cannot bear another's back,
another's hand, another's
waist, arm, leg
scent, taste, breath.
It cannot be the shoulder,
a collector of tears
to sell off for joy.
It cannot sell, it cannot buy
it can only sit,
a scarewcrow of emotion
and watch over the field
It can only glare at feasting
crow from afar, can only sit
and wait through the encroachment
of tears from the sky,
the sting of little white lies,
the hot rays of summer flings
and the dying of the land
in it's fall from grace.
It will be resigned to rot,
to waste away on the pedestal of
coronary guard duty. And yet,
hands from above reach down,
and fulfill it anew,
give it purpose again
to look out and defend.
Thus concludes this verse of poo
made out of affection only for you.
YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
Happy Birthday Moh-tee-canz
lurvz alecks-kun <4334 hartz
But to be serious, I hope you had the best birthday, and will look forward to the rest down the road. And I hope that I can be included again in at least a couple of the future ones. <3
It is stalwart - a stone
ragged, coarse
stashed in sewers of
coarse heart pipes
trapped in tangles.
It is silent,
frail cousin of moon,
of sun, resigned to stare
out over the fields
scarecrow of emotion.
It's not a river
it has no flow,
nothing to carry
in rows and rows of
atoms splintering,
bursting on one another's backs.
It cannot be a lover,
it cannot bear another's back,
another's hand, another's
waist, arm, leg
scent, taste, breath.
It cannot be the shoulder,
a collector of tears
to sell off for joy.
It cannot sell, it cannot buy
it can only sit,
a scarewcrow of emotion
and watch over the field
It can only glare at feasting
crow from afar, can only sit
and wait through the encroachment
of tears from the sky,
the sting of little white lies,
the hot rays of summer flings
and the dying of the land
in it's fall from grace.
It will be resigned to rot,
to waste away on the pedestal of
coronary guard duty. And yet,
hands from above reach down,
and fulfill it anew,
give it purpose again
to look out and defend.
Thus concludes this verse of poo
made out of affection only for you.
YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
Happy Birthday Moh-tee-canz
lurvz alecks-kun <4334 hartz
But to be serious, I hope you had the best birthday, and will look forward to the rest down the road. And I hope that I can be included again in at least a couple of the future ones. <3
+
apathetic