It’s always the same until it’s not.
You sing, dance, kiss, bloom and zoom
Like flowers in my garden weep then rot.
A summary of my life in drought:
Five different threads of hair in bed because
It’s always the same until it’s not.
In blue and white her feed locks me nauseous at night
And wide shut eyes cry of inconsequential tripe
Like flowers in my garden weep then rot.
We love each other; we like the thought
But I forget why I wanted you to come, because
It’s always the same until it’s not.
She has your name that I forgot
And I scream it through the atmosphere
Like flowers in my garden weep then rot.
This hand feels as bad as the rest
But the best blanket is hair across my chest.
It’s always the same until it’s not
Like flowers in my garden weep then rot.
youkeepthemoney. 