the prettiest girls line up like heartless wretches bent on some sordid complements exposing the gaping hole in their chests where once the hour glass was reset to bind them and hold them in eternity so grain by grain they would dissipate in some unfaithful unforgiving sea. they say, i confess that this is unpleasant, but id endure this so, this isnt measured in the inches it takes to be beautiful, i'll be honest dear this hurts like hell.

what could you expect?

this is anything but bearing the pain of growing, up and old. all i can hear is the sound of 6billion beating hearts, all i can see is the emptiness they find in listening to their own cries, and all i could be will have fallen down right in front of you, and all i could be has fallen down right in front of me,

they take exit over opportunity to turn in their graves, two hands for a shovel or a palm as a spade, its slowly assigned in such brilliance, they slowly define the boundaries of emptiness, and i can see it brighter than usual the backward breathing force like centripetal, imaginary motion that presses you in places, against the glass of hospital where you once began and wont end up that way, i want to die by the ocean, in a summer sunshowered rain old and seasoned, accepting of my fate, i could be there together we could try to mend the holes