Buttercups claim the Sun
a birth right
waxy yellow faces upturned

Summer is a lover
who claims
all hearts and souls.

.
The mountain lily crowding,
Grassy glens in formal dress,
After snows and early spring—
Rain over all the green hillsides,
An earthly heaven of constellation,
Daybreaks into marvelous milkyway.

For.now I had my up ND down
But heart hurt
So bad I don't know future pain will be.
God know that would I do is in love for family

I can tell that
you can't tell
that you aren't
going to be famous.

You helped **** a kid
by selling him laced candy
because you were trying
to buy an acting career.

Your suicide threats
and cries for help
turn me on.
Because.
I would love
for you to die.

And if you were dead --
as dead as the dirt on
the graves you've helped fill --
I wouldn't sleep better or worse;
I guess I would just be happy
knowing that someone would
be able to sleep and wake up.

They put you on the evening news
and you laughed about it on twitter.
Because you are a river
teaching drowning lessons
but not taking responsibility
for the cornflower blue corpses
that haunt your dangerous brain
and contaminate nearby life.

You are a degenerate --
but not one with potential
or hope. You are not what
is beautiful about struggle;
you are not interesting.

You are written about
much like how cancer
is written about in journals.