When our <3's
spread their
butterfly-free-flying wings.

Just fly-high,
up & away to  
an atmosphere
of good thoughts.

Good things never last.

If you get caught in the web
of a monster;
that is much
larger
than the hungry, ***** spider
you were running away from.
In the first place.

Just remember **** gets better.
&
Sometimes we all feel like this.

You've got one wing
out the cocoon.
You're halfway there.

One day.
Some day.
It
will
happen.

Even if
you're,
not ready
prepared
or expecting it to.

When the other wing
follows
the first
& you're
no longer,
a crawling
caterpillar,
on the
cracked out,
crooked
cement-circle.

You must.
Spread your wings
and fly off
the
very top
of your
heightened
fears.

To the arms
of an old,
dusty dream.

The hour hand's on 10.
&
The minute's on 4.

I think,
I know.

Half of me died
with you.

Way back,
when,
October nights weren't
so
******'
lonely.

Until my other half
gives in.
I'll be your;

1/2-ghost,
earth-bound.
Sun.

For the "time" being,
I'll catch you on the
astral plane.
&
I'll see you in my dreams.

</3

When your life line
stops running,
across your body's
support screen.

What time
will your clock
stop at?

Time doesn't exist,
I will
ALWAYS
be here.
<3

July 18th, 2010.

Those sacred songs suffocated,
when our books were set on fire.
We wasted time.
Worrying about something that wasn't going to happen
for a while.
Anxiety is just the common cold of 2010.
We've spent all of our $
And still there is no cure.
I have a high tolerance.
And you have a hefty load of prescriptions.
So tell me,
which one of us is going to die first?
Predestination does not care.

But the Grim Reaper does.

Stitchin' up a
Snitch's ******.
So he don't
steal or
snitch out someone
that had nothing to do with
his something
or another.

Guess, I'll quit acting so ****
bipolar.
When,
you quit acting like
a lazy,
Lil' Liar.

You blew it.
&
Messed everything up for me.

So
I'll just hit you back
&
**** your **** up.

So you don't have to
do it.
Yourself.
</3

Cause you're way
2
cute,
2
cry
over a

    Big-***.
    Stupid-***.
    Lazy-***
    Broke-***

air-head.

That somehow
caught you in a web.
& made you
uhhh-****-ted.

Get it?
Get it?
Got it!
Good.

Be like the
Brookie Monster
and know
U R A
rare ruby.

That should be
hidden,
at the bottom
of the
cookie jar.
SO no one can steal your beauty.
For their own *****-gain.

Sleeping alone *****.
But nothings worse
than waking up next
to
a
skanky/******
Lust-****.

Welcome,
to the
Fabulous Lifestyle
of the
Wonderful,
Magical,
Spit-Catching
Idiot-Magnets.

The World
is just a bed
full of.
Roaches,
Leaches
and everything else parasitic.

That only want
to drag you down
&
****-****-****.
What little
life is left,
with-in,
you're half-way
dead.

Still-breathing corpse.

Good luck!
To you,
Kind Soul.

I hope the World ends,
before it can take-break- away
your sugar-sweetness.

Lemon-drops
Always taste bitter
even if their rims are coated with sugga.

Sugar is better
off alone
sometimes.

End of Poem.