SUCH SUMPTUOUS SINS

Pink roses in my lap and such sensible waste of time. Feels as though I am wilting in slow motion and have no desire to seek out neither sunlight nor rain. It is said that the head that wears the crown is heavy and so my eyelids must be royal. I used to dream of homes with you and balconies over water and near a grocery store that had everything.

A grocery store is a corner shop.

What's the world done to you?

walk on water if I made

my body light enough.

Like a hole you can touch

the empty of. I think then

I serendipped myself in the

true nature of the soul: just

moonsmoke behind the eyes.

And death the daylight that

"If you're happy in a dream,

does that count?", and when

Ned Rorem replied: "nothing

is waste that makes a memory".

It tore me up, like all the pages

of all the books that contained