99 cent wars, rooftops, Gibraltar Screaming "god bless the fabulous" Christs;

In the eyes of years
Man is king only over that which breathes,
So let's throw hugs in the air,
sit on flowers and vanish to Cook stones on the hips of Cleopatra
with all of December's left footed children

For through the cried ***** tears of furry German banana caskets,
Eternity awaits
In the failures of our greatest triumphs,

So let's dance

After all, Psychological Wednesday societies
Are only good for curing Xbox manifestos and Tuesday sanities

And if we died one day,
it sure won't be yesterday.

Times like these
when the wind is whistling through my empty chest
when the recalcitrant organs within
are doubling me over
in a perfect bow, heaving me over the edge of the earth.
times like these
i remember
thousands of years past, thousands of lives lived
thousands of wretched souls prostrate at the feet of their lovers.
a shared quest until the end.
holding me up, urging me forward.
history.

You take a bite and I am full,
watching the Nile of desire drip
from your mouth down to your breast and
disappear, like fleeting summer
wind.