for friends who choose borders

you can't form these borders but i bet you like to keep

them peachy keen and catchy so that no one washes them

with new found knowledge you sly bastard you

i know you were the rat who sold out my inventions

but forget it lets have a drink and laugh again

and pretend that we're still friends.



pt. 1



picking up the pieces of an alabaster landscape

i'm inspired to consume unnamed legumes

and write a song about aprils and days that rain refrain

...

take the information

rearrange it and distort the possibilities of coherence

until it gets to where it takes a guide to show you back to

safety on the depravated highways that circle with no end

or hesitation of leading us to hypotheses of exiting

completely a nation bent on warring other ideals.



pt. 2



passively collecting chances in a plastic scrapbook

the liberals have lynched our existence in unclouded atmospheres so now we breathe the smog and dirt as if it were pure oxygen but happily i write my spite on the back of landmarked postcards from unclaimed appalacias south of your new england



pt. 3



and maybe one day i'll erect my own enigma to erase the occupation of unending obligations endeavoring my brain

but until then lets just divide the cheese we made off these inane macabres and sing sweet halelujah

dancing for the nights we've earned

selling darts and dispositions

aimed at never growing old



[and on that note we depart]

Author's Notes/Comments: 

a story. unfolding slowly.

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