By Arcassin Burnham


I saw you staring at the stars in the pale moonlight
but didn't wanna bother,
you got that goofy personality I like,in relation to your
stupid brother,
Pretty Moth, that will never get burned,
don't you see,we are stronger,
no time left to figure out on how to kiss your lips
in this Florida weather,

I was always down for you whenever you wanted me,
I was always here when things got rough for you and me,
You are the epitome , the angel of my soul that could never
Get rid of me,
Infatuated with your everlasting devotion that corrupts my
Energy,
Are you hearing me?
I.will.surrender,
My.heart.to.you,
In.these.final days,
I.am.with.you,


I saw you staring at the stars in the pale moonlight
but didn't wanna bother,
you got that goofy personality I like,in relation to your
stupid brother,
Pretty Moth, that will never get burned,
don't you see,we are stronger,
no time left to figure out on how to kiss your lips
in this Florida weather.

There is no winter only cool breeze,
Where most holidays are spent on the beach

There is no fall just grass not growing
The sweet smell of grass mowed is gone for now

The summer is hot and your skin feels like burning
Make-up is melting and water you need to be drinking

When rain pours you know it's the afternoon storm
Everybody on the road yield sign is blaring

Slower than 40 even on the left lane
Watch out for the merger they are not here to play

Life is a beach
Where palm trees are growing

We only have 2 seasons its indoors or out
Its never crisp like the Fall, I doubt.

HL Sept2016

They tell us

When things go wrong

Pray

If you want change

Protest

Then they **** more of us

And we cry more

How much blood is enough

Are the profit made from guns

Worth the holes

We dig for our sons

Am crying tears

Because in 2016

We are still not free

And it hurts

Am tired of crying

Enough is Enough

Gypsy smiles with aching minds put forty ounce bottles to pursed lips,    and we're still not drunk enough to have excuses in the morning.
Our lives have become the lyrics to a Tom Waits anthem.

Dusty Carhartts and broken knuckles beg the question: "What kind of collective living exists when nobodies home?"
My mind is racing like the CSX flyby out of Baldwin, and I'm tempted to jump in front of that ******* tonight cause I'm too scared to change the world.
She walks up and hugs me and I pray that it's more than the beer hugging me.
"Another World is Possible" is painted behind us in strokes of motivation the others just don't have.
There was no dust kicking up behind me as I walked away. There wasn't even a break in the conversation.