i can’t read.

we played blackjack and drew fifteen.
you ran, he ran… i’ll run too.
there will be nothing left here to be seen.
except this perforated mess of a scene.


once dear

there are only so many times you can say
i am busy.
before it becomes synonymous with
i’d rather be doing something else.

it’s okay if you do not care anymore,
but you cannot simultaneously not care,
and yet claim still to care.
your choices are completely reasonable,
and they deserve respect,
but please own them.

enter sendmend


could it be?

the foundation of rock firmly laid on land
were actually pillars and pillars of sand?

for i am a lesser man,
i cannot do what my Lord can.
and now that i am down to my last,
i see olive branches are hard to extend.
we will all have to go where we must;
so now, the last die has been cast.

all things go from dust to dust;
will we last, or will we rust?

what a pun.

huehuehuehue. :B

^ is actually quite proud he thought of ‘enter’, ‘send’, and ‘mend’; that is, pressing enter to send a message that would (hopefully) mend the relationship.

to never-Neverland.

well alright, my dear friend.
there is no need to play pretend.
If you want, you can sleep in the sand;
you were never the kind to withstand.

be that as it may
i was always the kind to say:

your garb is bound to rend, 
and your will be found to bend.
was that truly a loving hand?
or an invitation to never-Neverland?

alas, i bid you no dismay;
and i will gladly accompany you on your way.