i am no soft thing. i’m weary brick broken against the pavement, leapt from the walls that snobly reject my premature prayers of clarity, clarity, clarity. i’ll be back, with teeth grit until i’m sure the blood tastes cleaner. Make sure my truth kills me ‘til i’m new. i reject a life honey scented cherry picking Half alive, half buried by sweet story and song. I’ll see you tomorrow when the rooster crows it warns that I’m on my way the sun may follow.
