Anybody that is anybody knows the most fabulous and trendy accessory are socks.
Crew, No-Show, Knee high.
The ever versatile socks are the most righteous thing.
The Ancient Greeks may have had some dark ages, but they were the first people that we know of that thought,
Hey shoes are cool, but what if we made them more flexible and soft.
Thus the mighty sock was born.
Now there are some of you who may think completely different about socks.
Maybe they are boring, or annoying.
You are feeling the Albert Einstein side of socks. (He didn’t wear socks because he didn’t see the point, tragic huh?)
Well friends, though you may be genius you are completely idiotic.
Socks are little hugs wrapped around your feet. All day. They are like butterfly kisses that mae you smile every time you look down. What is better than that?
The answer is nothing.
Queen Freaking Elizabeth loved socks and went to the inventor of the knitting machine (which was originally created to make socks) to have custom socks made.
Not only are socks just incredibly wonderful and stylish, they were invented to help save the world… from sticky feet.
Socks help prevent your human sweat drops from seeping into your shoes, making a perfect nesting place for the teenage mutant ninja turtles. Disgusing
In conclusion, nothing can or ever will be more awe founding or perfect than socks

see how dubiously they hung
at the fairness of sky
and you thought they 'll be there for long
but you will force to believe a lie

and how gently do they drift
from the fondness of the heart,
but you 'll never know they are gift
hovering atop the shadows of man

But still they will disappear
like false friends during harmatan
and reappear like monks in dispear
shading the sun like minds over matter

clouds they are as we belive,
but they also could be dust
that sprinkle down the lust of eve,
it blind us to the worst

they are always there
disgusing with every weather
but once a closer look you bear
then you see the fact of life wonders.

All rights reserved.

I can feel my heart in two places at once, a dividing line of broken fines.  The pain of an existential winter blowing down my spine.  The papercut daydreams that i can't memorize.  Lead me to believe iam just caution tape on the investigation scene. Each cold sunrise leads me to believe i will always be lonely like the trees.  And this bed of bandaids has me disgusing every painful nail coursing through my veins.  

These leisureless habits have me question for right and wrong conditions.  It makes it all easier to say sorry writings on the wall, yet the pen never has enough ink to explain the ending.  I will send no letters, only pieces of forgetton times.  I hope that you pay the fines that hold me to the sorry writings.

Cant believe I did that
Cant believe how I’ve acted
Cant believe who I’ve slept with
Cant believe all the ways I’ve let myself down

Stare out the window of a moving car
Into the snowstorm parading around the town—
The streetlamps illuminate the strong flurries
As they fall and coat the streets
Disgusing all the pain underneath

Stare out the window of a moving car
Straight in to the searing eyes of nostalgia
Straight through the ghosts of people who have left,
Were once so happy together, and now are transparent—
As good as dead

Cant believe where I’ve gone
Cant believe who I’ve seen; who I’ve lost
Cant believe the world continues to spin
Cant believe I’m still alive