i am a couple strands of dead and dying grass in God's green lawn
what he doesn't know is the unbearable uncertainty of life and the truth-pursuit manifests itself with me and eternity
at me or God, there tends to be a hemorrhaging of ideologies running past our tongues into a civilized ballroom of platinum and pretty dresses
and i dance with a pretty girl
the chandelier, a gift from her father to the estate, hangs so slowly above us
green flashes as she closes her eyes
my suit takes my neck closely and i hear sea sparrow wings
the ballroom ceiling opens and i can see bruised sky sitting with crossed legs and cautious lips