Worst Case

As the fish drown and birds fly out past the atmosphere, we ignore the ugly and insincere nature of our Gods, and wait for better men to crawl thru the cracks, full of confidence and half courage, they find in fits of curse words and photos of their childhood dogs, they fall asleep but fail to rest, always waking to a deficit of character, noted boldly on calendars and by the scars that paint their bodies, refusing to allow them to relax.

All men can be admired from far away.

We circle the earth looking for those like minded souls, comfortable with the causes of their pain, secure with the type of suffering they call their lives, stuck with the idea love is just a symptom of loneliness.

I have learned to embrace its absurdity and enjoy the search for the people and places that allow me to make an attempt at my potential.

the possibilities - we plagiarize diaries and live in a poverty of sleep, owing everything to the days before.

no one single place feels pure or comfortable or clean (we seem at this stage to be fine with that) refusing to call any one thing the truth.

we'd complain but it would just be for entertainment purposes, to give us something to talk about, so we'll bite our lips and wait for the intermission.

We dress in decoration bow our heads in tears and thank those in charge for every miserable day. we are all just tourists looking for a minutes peace and a postcard to send home to the folks.