I tried writing something for you
Since it's your birthday and all
But I have nothing left to give
I'm dead inside
Curtain call

Plants of life, shouting death





Illegible and clear

I threw my gun in your river.

The reason is rather moot.

I laid in bed, put it to my head,

Pulled the trigger; it didn't shoot.


I tried
drying it in the Sun and it withered.

Crumpled like sheets under an apathetic Sire.

I laid in bed, put it to my head.

Pulled-  the **** thing didn't fire.

Winter comes sloppy;
A-Quality money shot
On the world's face.

My roses are fine,
I just covuhed em in dirt;
Bore fruit so divine,
I forgot the earth.

A fire I'll light
To eat the fruit with mirth.
My garden just might
Get a rebirth.

A wall
stands tall
before me

Blocks
my sight
from truth

Grips me
like
fine honey

Stands strong
without
proof

All-knowing,
all-
denying

Dirt floor,
Sistine
roof

This wall
seems to be
growing

Growing where
flowers
grew

Flowers sown
with heavy
stone

The wall
puts them
to use

You're blowing wind
Into my ear
You're blowing wind
I cannot hear

It's in the air its everywhere
I breathe it in it's on my skin
It's in the air its everywhere


You're blowing wind
Into my ear
You're blowing wind and
I don't care