Monday, December 12, 2011

Seventy or Just Seventeen

Drying flowers proving no blue skies. Quarters and dollars but no cream pie. Jolly Rancher ideas and everythings on time. Sugar coated isolation and all I've got is what's mine. Terrorized company from things I've might've said.. Too much soda pop going straight to my head. Spring cleaning in the dead of winter, locking up all the shiny things in the far back of someone else's shed. Clowning around on the heavier things. Breathing a little louder. Thinking a little fast. Privileged cures for harsh realities and harsher realities on the prettiest things I've ever seen. Eyes beginning to lie to me like I am seventy or just seventeen. Hardwood finish on my jello mind and empty suitcases causing me to watch the time. Jarred stars and you're wishing well. Lightweight months seem to be getting drunk and I need some sunshine, can I get some sunshine, quick.. Someone give me some sunshine.

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