all good things must come to an end, the bad ones just go on forever

i lifted the vail to see, natures trickery
revealed this pure shit from which
nothing ever rolls
because nothing ever could
i swear somewhere
the truth lies within this wood

1 comment:

dr. avoido said...


.....go there

I even hear the mountains
the way they laugh
up and down their blue sides
and down in the water
the fish cry
and the water
is their tears.
I listen to the water
on nights I drink away
and the sadness becomes so great
I hear it in my clock
it becomes knobs upon my dresser
it becomes paper on the floor
it becomes a shoehorn
a laundry ticket
it becomes
cigarette smoke
climbing a chapel of dark vines. . .
it matters little
very little love is not so bad
or very little life
what counts
is waiting on walls
I was born for this
I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead.