"stampeding" poems
Bruised and battered a friendship
Sometimes hangs by a tiny thread
As we came to the edge
Urged on , by all , but our own souls
We stop for friendship sake
Staring at the rocks of death below
We walked the cliff edge black
Hearts pounding like stampeding rhino
Charging our very path
Dragons of fear circle over head
Breathing fire over all
Pride clamors for higher ground
Standing tall and righteous
We fly high in the sky
Preying like vultures
Search for every fault
Feeling lost and alone
We seek the lower land
With pastures lush and green
And soil deep and rich
Where horses softly munch
Teaching us their gentle ways
For the loss of a friend
Can be to much to bear
In this already harsh world
Weighing like lead on our back
Like the captain of our own ship
We cling to the end
As our world sinks from under us
Breaking boards and smashing masts
Many splinter blind our eyes
As we float together in darkness
Waiting , for the storm to pass
Then the great sewer grabs our very souls
And throws us to the earth
Braking our ego shells
With troubles of our time
And sew new friendship
To be born anew
As only the friendship
Which has great strength
The power to endure many deaths
That see through much lashing pain
Can ever earn its name
For friendship forged in great heat
Will find itself sealed to the eternal time
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC
Imperialistic meddlers,
men of power greed and wealth
Western Imperialism
not too long ago
was once put on the shelf
Not too long ago
this name was never heard
Its name is New Order of DiSoRdEr
But still us folk of sanity
with eyes wide open
we see their compliance
lock-step herd vanity
In White House spin gone amuck
they throw their bolts of anger
to all countries on the globe
And with more and more displeasure
we witness their destructiveness
from sea to shining sea
But now I hear, see and feel
a distant faint rumbling the rising Valorous
the rumbling stampeding of democracy
by the forceful rightful anger,
the free-spirited valiant word
a word of truth and dignity,
the echo of today,
and aaah yes
to hear the thundering of the mass
To hear the thundering of the mass...
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 5:35 PM UTC
what do i have to say
to keep the zebra stripes
from falling off and leaving only white?
what do i have to do
to keep the herd of restless rhino
from stampeding you?
what do i have to be
to get the giraffe to come and eat
from our acacia tree?
peace is less than me
and more than you
but we are almost free
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC
Delicious hues of blue
Behind linen clouds
Stampeding
Slowly
From horizon
To horizon
As swirling calls of birds
Cheer them on.
Jun 4, 2019
Jun 4, 2019 at 3:19 PM UTC
The Serpent squeezes the mundane egg, for a moment in time,
…to begin the ages, turn the wheel, and so begin the rhyme,
The circus has commenced, a dancing, swirling motion,
…a pit of ghastly horrors, seen as a vast deep ocean,
…or celestial or cosmic, as some would have the notion.
Some of them were large, although some were also small,
…and grotesquely figured or disfigured, a scary monster’s ball,
…and trudging, stampeding, stomping or slithering down the hall.
There they danced, sang or prattled, where giants fought and where they battled, …thunder unto heroes rattled, with awful screams so frightening, and terrifying lightning!
Scaly, hairy or feathered, wet and fiery or weathered,
…conjoined, twisted or tethered, slithery writhing together,
Kingu and his wife, some say it was t’was his mother,
…his plan was war and strife, pitting brother against brother,
A ******* existence and so morally depraved,
…a state of sickly persistence, they found themselves enslaved.
Then abounding voice of heaven, that divided night by day,
…brought forth a princely king of Luke; the warrior Marduk.
Fourteen engaged in combat, the one against thirteen,
…and thus aligned with the ecliptic, at night they can be seen,
Sloshing in the Apsu, beaten with the club,
…slain and torn to pieces, cutting channels of their blood,
A north wind sent them to their places, fixed on Tiamat’s wheel,
…and the starry constellations, did Marduk bring to heel.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 5:47 PM UTC
This house has been far out at sea all night,
The woods crashing through darkness, the booming hills,
Winds stampeding the fields under the window
Floundering black astride and blinding wet
Till day rose; then under an orange sky
The hills had new places, and wind wielded
Blade-light, luminous black and emerald,
Flexing like the lens of a mad eye.
At noon I scaled along the house-side as far as
The coal-house door. Once I looked up -
Through the brunt wind that dented the ***** of my eyes
The tent of the hills drummed and strained its guyrope,
The fields quivering, the skyline a grimace,
At any second to bang and vanish with a flap;
The wind flung a magpie away and a black-
Back gull bent like an iron bar slowly. The house
Rang like some fine green goblet in the note
That any second would shatter it. Now deep
In chairs, in front of the great fire, we grip
Our hearts and cannot entertain book, thought,
Or each other. We watch the fire blazing,
And feel the roots of the house move, but sit on,
Seeing the window tremble to come in,
Hearing the stones cry out under the horizons.
3.8k
in
Tanzania
where
migrating herds of
wildebeests, gazelles, zebras and buffalos
stampeding across
the
vast Serengeti Plains
ignite the world
then
write
their names
in gold
ignite
the
skyline of earth
create
a painted
watercolor sunset
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 8:30 PM UTC
The other day
When I said that your face reminds me of a rhinoceros
I wasn't saying that you look like a bulky box
Or that your skin looks grey
I was really trying to say that
You make me feel like there are a hundred
5 ton mammals stampeding across my heart
And sometimes when I look at you
I can't even breathe
Because all the weight of wanting this
Crushes my lungs til my chest burns like an African desert
Consequently most rhinos are found in Africa
And I researched all of this in the hopes that
Maybe you would understand
You see the thing is I am not good with emotions
And I know as much about love as I know about quantum physics
And I don't even know what quantum physics is about
Or what it means for that matter
I've been trying to read all the romance novels that I could find
I've been trying to watch all the rom-coms I can torrent
Hell I even watched Valentine's Day thrice
But I still don't know what to do when I'm with you
I am unsure and clumsy and petrified
So much so that I can't even work up the courage
To hold your hand
I'm trying, I really am
It's just so **** difficult
When falling in love feels more like
Jumping out of a helicopter
A hundred thousand feet up
Without a parachute on
One day I will be able
To directly say what I really mean
Without metaphors involving animals
That only I understand
But for now let me just say
Your face reminds me of a rhinoceros
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 7:02 AM UTC
Gemini sheriff of happy town
kills all the frequent cow-catching waffle machines.
He rounds up all his cowboys
and retires all the shepherds in a cloud most curious.
Somewhere soon there will be a better thing to do
than reach for the cookie jar all life long.
Unfortunately there will come so many who also wear the star.
All them good folks are stuck in a stampeding herd of confusion.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 1:50 PM UTC
Up went the roar of the crowd,
Ascending, volumes above, beyond
The everyday murmur of pestering silence.
A futile struggle to withstand its force,
Like a vast wave, rogue and raging,
Slamming nature, a slap in the face of feebleness,
This crowd roars…
Not anger, not anguish, or grief,
But a prideful scream of declaration;
The masses make it known, and known again,
Fists raised, pulverizing the air to a beat
Of human design, of togetherness, of solidarity
In the fight for those like us, a howl,
This crowd roars…
Stampeding feet berate the beaten earth,
Invigorated legs supporting pounding hearts,
To a beat, rolling with the flow,
Energy infusing the soul, encased in flesh, bone, and blood;
Marching onward, forward, processional strides
Declaring and making it known with battle cries,
This crowd roars…
Shouts of proclamation echo the strident resistance
With thunder, earth-quaking, walls crumbling, chains shattering
With thunder, dancing against the discordant system;
Proud warriors raising flags of protest
Amidst the roar, roister, and riots, rising reactionaries
Refusing submission, declining resignation,
This crowd roars…
Bounded together, by blood, by common cause,
Mingling masses of forgotten arise with a vocal
Outcry, intense, pulsing from the core (of us)
Like an infestation, infuriated, a torrent swarm (of us)
Flowing upwards, eroding all obstructions.
Declare, proclaim, announce, request, demand,
This crowd roars…
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC
I've never known how to properly end a conversation with you, whether it be a phone call or a kiss good bye. Fingers fumble and awkward "I love you"'s and "good bye"'s drunkenly find their way out of my sober mouth. I never know how to say "fare well".
My theory is that I never want to say good bye in the first place. I'd rather be with you. Though you might be busy talking to someone else or in another room, I want to always be close to you. Saying "good bye" doesn't feel good at all. It feels like I'm going far away and I'm leaving a piece of me behind. I know I might sound clingy and suffocating, but I have adapted a terrible habit of needing someone around to keep me sane. I use to love to be alone, but now I go crazy with thoughts stampeding through my head. I hate to say good bye.
But I love to say "hello". Our "hello"'s are the best. We meet with kisses and hugs and sometimes chocolates. We meet with wide grins and bright eyes that catch the light just right at six in the evening. Our "hello"'s are heart warming and relieving.
The "hello"'s almost make the "good bye"'s worth it.
Almost.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 4:30 AM UTC
How to design a killer society
by president whiteness
the imperial imagination
drone culture
drone language
drone purpose
a rough process
of putting your conscience
back into yourself
far away from what you look like
while having your experience
surrounded by those who fear
having their experience alone
awkward comparisons of experience
acting out in play
called
“how normal melts into experience”
you ****** expired
you are looking now
at yourself having been experienced
expired and ready for the next program
I destroyed leisure
white celebration
single handedly
found its brittle structure
and took it apart
piece by piece
as it squeezed and begged
I smiled as it crumbled
down back to nature
begging for mercy
begging to be taught how to live
how to be alive
i can give time
I can take it away
does time need electricity
to be charged
does time need to socialize
the harder it seems
the more easy my words come
the better they touch you
graze your skin barely
tickles
like I could never with my hands
I want my words to be a spark
I want you to be flammable
I want you to be mesmerized
by the flame I made out of your attention
I want you to feel warm and cozy
burning passion
scared of fire out of control
spreading
you need
yet fear so boldly
desperate nuclear dissociation
like the affection of whiteness
stampeding innocence
feining my writing
like drugs needles
love
too deep in limbs
they are coming
imperialism
*******
longing for
bodies
I want your mind
keep her body
naked hostage
of imperial lust
what happened to your attention
being an adult
I don’t know what the **** is in the future
but I do
so do you
I wanted to write to you
so I could just focus
on your eyes the next time I am with you
your moistness
melts my desire
I become more of a mystery
more mystery
until nothing but mystery
and then nothing at all
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
Rolling down the road, in a sunset town
A pop from the tailpipe and a rumbling sound.
Never before have you seen the town like this.
Friendly faces, children running. Bliss.
A sweet voice, humming over the airwaves
Sultry and definite, like the end of this day.
It's stampeding to a hault, to an end of days.
It should have always ended this way.
The raccoon, his days of mischieve cut short,
Forever stagnant and flat on the black.
No one will build him his tomb, an animal mosoluem, no funeral fort.
What will happen when I die, what will be lax?
We all stride to and fro,
Oscillatory on this wavelength God-given.
What happens when we finally go,
When our own life is not living?
Men may say that life is long for fear of the afterworld,
For that untrodded territory in which we know not of
But I say that life is too fleeting,
For the fish which swim, the birds above.
What is life, when put to music?
Can you hear it better when the melodies mix?
Is the world more rustic?
Are we fools to its tricks?
Sunset falling on faces of a sprawl,
One day over, one to end them all.
I feel an ocean rushing over me
I find myself floating at sea
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 9:15 PM UTC
You're a happy invasion of my mind
Stampeding into my thoughts
Stumbling into my dreams
And owning all of my smiles.
❤️
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
For he was a young soldier
Who loved his Germany
With all his honest heart
Like a son and a Father
They belonged together
As he sank into his trench
On the north side
He was aware of a tide
And had no one to confide
For each each day he battled
Against all rumor
There was no where to hide
As he felt trapped inside
And had no one on his side
As what were quiet whispers
A fluttering humming bird
Were now great big Rhino's
All angry and stampeding
Into the forefront of his mind
Whats happening to the Jews
And were did Alwin go
Were did he go
And why did I blank him
The week before he went
For I am lost and confused
As Germany has sewn
Razors around my heart
What had he done
Where had he gone
As his heart ached
With an almost ancient hollowness
That echoed over his battle field
His eyes all embedded
Became a blood reded
Two hot ball bearings
Carving with a burning envy
Into the enemy lines
As pierced through the sky
He said to himself
At least their gallant fight
Is in the just cause of right
And he picked up his rifle
Like a fire breathing dragon
He roared lead every where
As he drank up death
Like a tonic it quenched
The fiery hatred in is heart
A hot lava that dripped with venom
As his blindly sprayed his gun fire
For he was truly lost
And ran like a headless chicken
Into the arm of battle
As he sort peace down the
Canons of a Russian tank
How he loved his German uniform
A beautiful rich blue
With shiny new boots
As I paint over my regrets
For I have covered my rusty imperfection
In a gold plated uniform
I wear my thin skin of righteousness
So that I may point
To the naked imperfection of others
I live within the narrow trench of my own pride
As there is fear on every side
As I call upon all my regrets
As it is time to retreat
Into the hands of my imperfection
For I stand naked in the sun
My ego no where to hide
For I will not pick a side
As it is time to let go of pride
Regret is the Axe
that chops down my pride
The splinter that wakes my soul
To its duties in this world
Regret exposes the Viper
That hides in the jungle of pride
The pointing finger
Is a sleeping soul
Resting within its own pride
Pride draws you into the
Narrow trench of war
While regret is the angel
That offers you peace
In the tranquil space of
Your own imperfection
That brings you new hope
Made up in heaven
That we can call on
To save us from our own imperfection
That one day we are perfection
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
Adderall tears burn red lines down my face
Heart stampeding over my cracked ribs
The earth stutters a tipsy beat
As I shake on a train to no mans land
Orange eyes watching green lights zooming past
Living life as a watercolor stain seeping through ***** newspaper
Whoever you are I miss you
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 4:40 AM UTC
Silver fox. Artist. Poet
W.H. Auden, flowery guff
Charming but lecherous
Stampeding to the ****
Figurative drawings, posing
Who wouldn't be impressed
"Such a pity you have to get dressed".
A long time in the waiting
Eventually, " off with that frock"
Puzzleing slow process
Just let me inject me ****
Hellfire! That's a novelty
Haven't heard that one before
Fifty shades lighter
Running for the door.
Four years on 'I like you'
Like is underestimated
Emotionally stagnant
Good job I was wasted.
Artist. Poet. Peter Cook wannabe
Lecherous small **** pervert
Loitering at the school gates
Tacky little Herbert.
Seventy four you craggy *******
Bet it still doesn't function
Roll up **** for breakfast
Bet you still ain't up the junction.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 6:44 AM UTC
If I was granted just one wish,
for how we'd spend our lives,
I'd have to give it so much thought,
till perfect plans arrive.
We could be lovers on the wing,
soaring through the air,
but I think flight is overrated,
there's lots more we could share.
We could be swingers in the trees,
laughing with the chimps.
I'm sure we'd be entertained,
but there's so much more to glimpse.
We could see the great savannah,
stampeding cross the plains,
being one with mother nature,
but I'm sure we'd be drained.
I think we're more like little otters,
splashing playfully.
Holding hands we rock to sleep,
we'll never drift at sea.
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 10:34 AM UTC
When my grandfather passed away, my brothers and I held my dad with slanted eyebrows and stiff, silent upper lips. Because we are young and foolish and still learning. Because we’d never really had to do the holding before and, as far as we knew, this is how men mourn.
We dusted antique left-behinds with delicate, moth-wing hands that fluttered here and there and never stopped trembling -- dead giveaways that within the corridors of our arms our heartbeats went stampeding, arrhythmic. We couldn’t quite bend them into the proper shape for prayer, so instead we ran them, with touch somewhere between float and feel, along every ashtray and age-stained picture album. In that moment I think we each wished that memory read like braille, but no one ever said as much. Because this is how men mourn.
We honored our patriarch with whiskey, hidden away for what must have been twice my age, between the carved out pages of old stacked books.
We drank like secrets. His portrait played witness.
We promised between our teeth with tinged lips tight, keeping words in that might otherwise crumble us like great ancient empires.
We singed and smoldered in a burn that coated our throats, quelling a choke that kept climbing its way up from a chest that never quite stayed sunk. Boys grow up loving the clinking twist of unlocking deadbolts but men peek through keyholes. Because this is how men mourn. Silent and straight with head only slightly slanted.
But when my father betrayed his rigidity with words that clicked clean like unfastening locks, we traded this stale air in for wind laced with the electric taste of thunderstorms. We forgot how men mourn.
When my grandfather passed away, my brothers and I held my dad with lightning behind bleared eyes. Because we are young and foolish and still learning. Because we have umpteen days left to dress in bittersweet vestiges and, as far as we know, this is how men live on.
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
The mighty Atlas, father of those seven sisters,
Bears the weight of heaven on his broad shoulders.
And even one of the brothers three, lives eternal;
In Chaos realms, Tartarus' black abyss, in which
No soul returns, to gaze upon life's light once more.
Although, forgive me, I lie; a few, a few selected,
Have returned from amidst heavy woe, pushing
Down their sorrows. Orpheus ventured,
With sweet song, motherly ordained and with divine,
Unrivalled skill on his lyre, seduced Hades himself.
I too, challenge his great powers; and with her skirt
Flapping with speed, ride on Auroras saffron chariot,
Cooking the sky's dark covering wings, to a baking red,
While the sun gallops up, stampeding behind our cart.
I play, not keen, to act the fool, and lay these pale ivy
Laments in front, which my lips have yet not touched.
I place you in the centre, forests following, clear streams
Flowing as crystals sway on its surface; and yet,
I have not put them to my lips; but keep them by.
I praise not this, but sing, because together we sit
On this soft green grass; now the woods are leafing,
Now the year is at its loveliest, the cheeky girl
Pelts me with apples. Presents are laid up for my Emily,
I myself have observed where doves make their nests.
I'll pick ten apples, picked from a woodland tree,
And for you, I'll pick ten more tomorrow.
You breezes waft a word or two to the gods' ears
And to my pure white seraphim, for her to hear.
I love my angel most of all, for when I left,
She wept and said ‘So long, love, so long.'
Wolves are sad for the folds, rain for the crops,
Gales for the trees, and Emily, me for you.
I love my muse, let him who loves you share your paradise.
Let honey flow from him, let roses blossom
From his pores, to pick flowers and earth born strawberries,
To dip you, in springs of tears myself. My love is ruinous
And the sky extends no wider than my heart.
Say, in what lands the flowers inscribe your name,
The name of goddesses; for who fears the sweet,
Or feels the bitterness of love; let them drink their fill.
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 9:13 AM UTC
I'm haunted by ghosts.
Screaming profanities,
Shattering the barriers of solitude.
Banshees cursing me,
Leading them to the depths,
Of the hell I created.
The blackened pit,
I the tormentor.
Where my eyes pierce
Sweetest fantasy, corrupting innocence.
Filling hearts with dread.
Dreams turned into night mares.
Stampeding insanity,
Like merry-go-rounds
Drilling painful truths into
The painted fictions of hope
That we dream of as children.
I am the madness your heart craves.
And the poison that kills you.
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC
hair tied with
a nitrile glove cuff
carved a sacred space adorned with muffled tile
porcelain throne pod amongst the ruckus
hohumdrum gods stampeding towards
a visionary empty meeting with screens
greeted with massed bodies, butter, and dust
the divine light behind the porthole still shines
even as crowds continually shuffle forwards
backwards and past, that bouquet of projection rays
remains sheening with eye to light machè heaven
until thunderous overstrokes over indulge and begin
to over and undertone every feather upon ears
resignation of a certain kingship upon standing
and yet wealth of ethic remains demanding
so, stand.
Jul 1, 2022
Jul 1, 2022 at 5:17 AM UTC
These hearts have become racist
What used to be kind
And all hope to be seen
is wasted
On the stampeding blind
These teeth have become stained
What used to be white
Has been darkened by the
viscera of
those consumed by the night
These hands have become destroyers
Fingers that once saved
Equal and human;
Clean or depraved
These hands have become destroyers
I feel you chewing the limb that
used to be there
Your skin is under my nails
You're burning my fingertips
And pulling my teeth
You strangle me deep
among the sea of leaves
Flashing advertisements
in my eyes, Listening to
my every word. You tell
me I'm sacrificing for the
greater good. But I feel
submissive. I feel hateful.
You say Eve is the reason
for the downfall of mankind.
She is nothing but of rib and
even bone cracks. Saying this
as you dislodge my jawbone.
I try to argue with you, but
my language is gone.
You say that a dog is harmless
if surrounded by fence. That the
owner of the dog should pay for
the fence. That the ***** could ****
or produce pups that would ****
I am still without words and losing
copious amounts of blood.
I am poor and no-one will acknowledge
my death. I am someone people will
forget died and will have to be reminded
years from now, during a cook-out or
amateur bowling tournament. My legacy
is that of failure and being obliterated,
justifiably so.
These people look to money,
to colors on fabric idols,
to pages in a book written by
share-croppers afraid of flooding.
Remove me, so, to remember me
for what potential may have existed.
Kindly ignore that I never resisted,
and that I, the apex of forevers, was
always ungrateful. That I conformed
and became deeply hateful.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 8:03 PM UTC
" "
Within my dreams Illuminated
Galaxies travel across Fiery dark canopy
Maybe the Traumdeutung is too much
Of a work before day's work Begins
Above us is also below Us dormitory
Dreaming of our luscious Bodies entwined
Riding each other as Universe was a Wild
Splendid stallion stampeding through Open Space
And her sacred blood turns into the salty Waters
Upon his black neck caressed by the noon
Beneath hot eruptions of Sun's squared light beams
Beneath his magic ebony knited untamed mane
Covering by his pace awaken eyes thirsting
For crystal cold waters deep in the distance
Feeling the pull of a mirage flickering
In the deserts of life; each one crying
Howling alone to the full Moon
Singing to us with strange allure:
"Fairy tales do come True. . ."
We have to believe!
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 5:21 AM UTC
You said, “Ask me what I am thinking”
Obediently I did
Swiftly you kissed me
Tongue, lips, all of it.
And suddenly,
I felt
E v e r y t h i n g.
Chills up my spine
Arm hair raised
Stiff and straight
Senses heightened
Heart beating
Stampeding
Like a band of thoroughbreds racing.
Intense sensations
Swarms of tingling and tickling
Like someone softly blowing
On the back of my naked neck.
A shock wave of pleasure
Feelings immeasurable
To anything I’ve experienced.
This was no ordinary kiss
Warm, gentle, firm
Just enough wetness
To keep motion fluid.
Lasting only 10 seconds
But feeling endless
Like falling into an abyss
A bottomless pit
Deeper and deeper
Rapidly dropping
Picking up speed
Until your hands released my cheeks
And all the warmth left me.
Overtaken by an icy breeze
Compared to the heat I was just feeling.
Like pulling covers abruptly off a body
While in the middle of a slumber.
I never liked the feelings of being stripped
Unwillingly, unexpectedly
Especially
When the everything was so inviting.
You kissed me without permission
Then the position I was put in
Decisions I had to make quickly after
Because what I say now
Outlines our future
Defines our label
Of each other.
You put that pressure
Onto me
I wanted nothing of that responsibly
At least not to that degree
Don’t ask that to me
To state what I think we should be.
10 seconds ago
I only asked what you were thinking
I was unaware,
Completely unprepared
To know I would be deciding
The fate of our relationship
This now sinking ship.
I can swim
But I feel like I'm sinking
Having to live with the dreadful feeling
I’ve hurt another person again.
I got to be the lead
As I’d always dreamed
I never expected my role to be
Heart Breaker.
I want to go along with it,
Put up with the charades
Be the good actress
And pretend things didn't change
Say for your sake
I feel the same way.
But for this show to go on
For my role to be authentic
I must be honest.
I guess some friendships expire…
Even the best shows don't last forever
Enjoy the run for what it was
And say goodbye
Because it’s for the better.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 12:16 AM UTC