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I am told bitterness and rage and envy are no way to live. That they’re sins. That they will only rot my heart and soul. I can’t be made to care, though.
Why did no one tell us of The wretched death of friendships In the years of our flowering youth, When all companionry seemed portentious Of tomorrow? No expiration Seemed to us inevitable, lurking
How happy is the ignorance, widespread worldwide!Widespread worldwide.Does the widespread worldwide make you shiver?does it?
Trees, breeze, ripples leaves. falling down, to the ground. to rest, add, to the rest.
The sea salt water masks the scent of decay in this townDo you remember the old days?This decrepit land was once fresh like a newborn baby boy.It grew and grew
We are all standing single file waiting for our turn to plunge into the deep, dark abyss. At night I wonder, how often do two lives end in perfect unison on opposite sides of the world?
Industrial decay Left the workers in dismay. Jobs lost, life costs. The buildings are in ruin Yet the teenagers pursue in The creative inspiration This nation chases them away from.
Dipping and slipping Comes the sun's ray Pittering and pattering Goes the steady rain Plipping and plopping Upon the forest green Clicking and clocking The happy insects scream
Dynasties decay Legacies decay Influences decay The elderly decay The adults decay The infants decay The countries decay The cities decay Communities decay
Nature in its essence So Often Misunderstood The things we might not notice The things I wish we could Disguised by its beauty Lush greenness all around The penetrating sunlight
Poor choicesdrowned out by voicesof want and reason
Marble floors and polished glass,Shining like the mahogany grandfather clockthat gives off the scent of fresh pine and lemon.It sits quietly in the cornerObserving.
As I drive, I suddenly feel the need
I have grown older Over the years And I must confess I do not feel more Like ashes or dust But more like Stone
paradoxically invigorated sleeveless in bitter arid wind mummified autumn leaves trampled underfoot sigh in relief, sinuses desiccated by the soured air the roar of eighteen-wheelers the hum of dying cicadas
An empty house, ancient and beautiful. Stands regally above the lowly earth. Shingles slither off, front porch steps crumble. But the house has immeasurable worth. Inside swarm ghosts, memories of the past.
My friend and I were talking one day and he asked me, "What do you think about the state of downtown?" I thought about this question for a second and said...
What do we have if not our minds? Any ownership we claim is fleeting Our possessions wither, wear, and decay Yet, we still cling to things in this world While our minds slip and fade.