Bought sex.
Fried chicken.
Burgers.
Coke and chocolate.
Circuits, record players and pus.
Stuck on repeat.
Filling a sack.
The crap of the world forging itself into an upright,
living thing that does not forget.
Standing atop the easy slope of a gentle hill.
Backed by sunflowers.
Regimented and aligned.
An army of beautiful things,
that experience,
but choose not to remember.
No comments:
Post a Comment