The World Needs To Get Over Itself

A tender muted rain drips through the trees like lead paint down a child's throat.

Surrendered couples romantacize in fields of oleander.

An ode to God clings to the fingertips of the esteemed criminal.

Like alcoholics rejoicing in puddles of moonshine,

We are addicted to the chaos that surrounds us.

Like sponges, we soak up the misunderstandings, mistakes, misdemeanors,

And allow them to fill our tear ducts

In preparation for the next time someone asks

A simple question.

 

We lay here in swamps of brittle inconveniences,

Ignoring the resplendence of the surrounding universe,

Being the selfish creatures we are.

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