Something is just on my mind

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A Means To an End

A Means to an End

You were reading Atlas Shrugged: I must admit, I was impressed,

(But how would I explore your mind while staring at your breasts?)

You were spinning candy dramas woven into cotton dreams,

Sharp as a bloody nail file, and as sweet as beaten cream,

Still, I felt angelic assets hidden there beneath your seems.

We drank a box of Peter Vella, fell into the night.

The others drifted off to bed. You whispered “I don’t bite.”

I covered you with kisses and you covered up my eyes,

So I wouldn’t see the pit you hid so snug between your sighs,

You let me lick your lilies while you spread your pretty lies.

I wound myself in your embrace—you fit me to a T.

Only it was lowercase, a shadeless, barren tree.

Your halo was a noose that you would hang from every day,

Your wings were lined with razor blades to slice my soul away.

You shed your robes and wore a thong to put it on display.

You prodded me for fantasies, I whispered in your ear

That I would be your Arthur and you’d be my Guenevere.

I lifted up the lid of your forgotten wishing well,

And felt a flame that made no light, but burned as hot as hell.

I tried to see the bottom but I leaned too far and fell.

For fifty months I tumbled, after forty I was numb.

My Guenevere had shark’s teeth, and I had turned to chum.

While you were getting furniture, I was getting bills.

While you were racked with laughter, I was getting chills.

While I was bursting blood vessels, you were popping pills.

Something stank in Denmark but it all remained a riddle,

Till you rode off with Lancelot and left me Lance-a-little.

So I’ll sit here in my tower and I’ll cry myself to sleep,

I tried to buy you heaven but the price was just too steep.

You left me here with nothing and it’s nothing that I’ll keep.

An angel made a monster out of loneliness and lust,

I knew that you had issues—it’s yourself that you don’t trust.

There is one final lesson here on which I can depend:

Not just alphabetically does lover follow friend.

*I need to figure out who wrote this… Its been bugging me for a while now… Oh well guess I will keep looking haha :)*

Nov 9
Magic realism hides what people dont wish to see in others.

Magic realism hides what people dont wish to see in others.

Coincidences

Penny On The Ground

So today, I found a penny on the ground. Now my first thought was that I would have good luck coming my way… but is that really just superstition talking? What if somebody had just decided that finding a penny correlated with them having good fortune? I feel like we want things to be related so badly that we choose to believe in silly nonsense. But then again, what else is there to believe in than silly nonsense?

Is the world really in chaos? Or are we just the same as we have always been? Does anyone know?

Is the world really in chaos? Or are we just the same as we have always been? Does anyone know?