Life would be smoother with a bottle of warm sex
and broken guitar strings.
Sour plants, high fantasy,
and a deluge of even skinned girl.
All for the love of me.
I'll never understand.
Tried to categorize it.
Classify it.
Organize it.
Debunk the myth.
Wild unicorns, in a soft-cloud stampede.
I'll never live another moment as pure.
As condensed and sweet.
Pouring in a long tantalizing strand.
Pregnant with anticipation of the fall.
Where all things exotic and barren collide.
The purple and orange horizon
the husky, lonesome wind in my eyes.
For us there is no tomorrow.
For me there is no us.
Just follow.