A fraction folds
To hold
The mold of a former
Love affair in negative degrees

When we were young
The things that mattered
Were the present
The future non-existent to us
Meant nothing, though not pushed
Or brushed under the rug

No guilt was weighed upon us
No responsibility given
Our only task was to live, love, experience, grow

A turn in the mentors
DIrects the young minds
To a place thought of
Death to a spontaneous chaotic mind

The only
Kind
That makes
Differences are changes

When there was nothing to say
We moved the former sentences
To the front of the line
And there was magic in her eyes
The way she lied with her thighs
A voice like a sick angel with too many
Pills swimming around her intestines

Another night
Two days prior
The sire inhaled
And looked out onto
A golden field aflame

The same man
Whose daughter's plan
Was to escape to a land
Far from reach
From his violent hand

We are all escaping somewhere
All going someplace
A nerve twisted underneath a
Tangerine tinted skyline

It's late on the front near the water;
The old withered oak trees.
A cloud passes over the moon;
Darkness pours over this old house of mine.
In time I'll see love again,
But for now
I'll stop feeling lazy and have reason.

Falls coming soon.
So croon with the leaves that crawl
Over caked and cracked windowpanes
Forgetting a summer that was
Wasted away in a hazy heat to dumb
To press matters further than work and love