well sponoza
what would you make of this?
granted
success is never guaranteed
but I think I deserve
some sort of prize
I tried, after all.
Maybe
trying harder
and relenquishing
everything
will bring about
more desirable results.
So what?
Lose control?
Could be interesting
or detrimental,
both
most likely,
need to indulge
in hedonism
or else
well, ****.

The giant moon lit up the night.
The early June air cool and crisp.
We drove my mother's car through the woods
Up Forker road to the place she was staying.
The Eagles serenaded us through the static of the radio and
We kissed for the first time, bathed in moonlight.
Her smell, exotic and unknown and wonderful.

The giant moon lit up the night.
The early June air moist and perfect.
Cars raced across the downtown bridge overhead.
The night wind and the sounds of the city, our soundtrack.
Graduation was over and we left our friends behind.
Graduation was over and our tongues were intertwined.
I'd never been touched there before, and have never felt like that since.

The giant moon lit up the night.
The mid-August air warm and still.
We parked my beat-up old Ford truck in the middle of God knows where.
She thought she was going to look at the glimmer of stars,
She found a diamond in her sleeping bag instead.
We cried together in hope and excitement.
Her warmth next to me could have sustained me forever.

The giant moon lights up the night.
The early June air cool and restless.
I drive the same beat-up old Ford through the same corners and the same woods
Up Forker Road, thinking about them all.
Not about all of the things that would eventually go wrong
Or the nights when my very soul would ache like no other pain in life,
But of the nights when that same summer moonlight
Poured mercy out on our hearts;
In those moments, life was new and sublime.

The nights not like this one, when the moonlight guides me home to emptiness
And that curious mixture of longing and trepidation
That pours out from a freshly broken heart
And a giant summer moon.

That day when 96 fans died
Through their teeth the police
They lied

They tried to give the fans the blame
Now hang your heads
In utter
Utter
Shame

I don't know why love and loved are seperate words.
If you ever love someone, you can't just stop,
Because, even if they change,
You still love them for who they were,
And in a way, you have to love them for who they are too.
Love isn't like.
You can like one type of food, and stop liking it.
But when you love, it is different.
You cannot just stop loving.
Loved is love.
You may be in love with someone,
But you love everyone you loved,
So let's just call it lovd,
Because both words mean the same thing.

Neocon greed—
Old con of fears, intolerance,
Money in the bank.