The remnants of last night's nova
lay scattered in tatters on the patterns
of ballroom linoleum.
Flattened bottles and kids
full throttle on people petroleum.
They whisper, "we're full of them
deaths 'guised as holy gems,"
but no one could hear
through the decoding of the exploding star,
the eroding of that foreboding bazaar,
not even the one whispering,
loose lips left ajar.

The remnants of last night's nova;
it began with a beat.
Melody sweet was distorted just to show the
flipped switch kids who retorted just to grow numb,
with ditched brain space aborted just to know dub,
or love the microchips imported just to throw the
blasting bass bubbles of sound
into the ground,
spinning around,
until they come down,
to frown at flowers
powered by the eye of the storm.
Where it's the norm
for their forms
to be torn from their static.

The remnants of last night's nova
was an illness of stillness;
of dripping dead glow sticks
that knows this
fist in your chest clenched tight,
and the sight of last night,
and the fading lights
just show this restlessness
is not the best of this bright.
The love fights muttered
through shutters of others
echoed soft cotton swab colors
in sunrise skies,
and despised eyes,
and reprized "why?s"
to inspire white lies.

The remnants of last night's nova
are gone.

Disposable likes

Dispensable loves

I wish I could throw it all away.

Somebody tell all these recyclable guys
To step down from their endless pride
and just be sustainable- but reusable for later

Reducible heartbreaks

Reprized 'I love you's'

I wish there was a safe way to get rid of our minds.

Without polluting everything around our youth
Because none of us want our children knowing
That one day they might be susceptible to that typa thing...

The world would be such a better place if we didn't waste

Maybe if we all knew

Sometimes we need to dispose of things the right way;
Instead of putting in on top of another pile-

It would be.