is there something wrong about finding beauty in a flower even if it's fake ?
it surely wasn't placed there for me in your abandonded car.
and there are some budding white ones nearby.
I don't even know, I can hardly keep track of anything nowadays.
I'm a fish-head or some pontificating ape or just some bozo you might hate, love, or ignore, or even might be scared of.
J can't even tell, no not one bit.
Maybe my face is just one faded memory waiting to be rediscovered;
maybe I've lost you so many days that I haven't even kept any count.