Post by ashroseberry on Jun 30, 2014 21:06:15 GMT 8
I stop to smell the wilting rose.
The cliche of it both aggravates and humors me.
I am a cliche in that I am not because in that instance,
I couple the scent with the sight of saliva stringing off the pink fleshy tongue of the fat panting English mastiff being walked my his fat panting English mastiff human.
And I smile to myself at the secrets in my mind.
How can something be so beautiful and so grotty at once?
Have I settled? Have I become accustomed to mediocrity?
She insists that I have and that the bread is too sweet here.
The line up of thin haired, slightly off kilter gentleman that pepper my past certainly suggests so.
Like a line up of petty thieves. Pretending to be dangerous.
Sort of.
For the story?
For the girl.
The rose may be wilting but it smells as sweet as the summer.
The summer attempting
to break up-------------the grey cloud
for the fifteenth time today...
I look ahead of me and walk on.
And I smile to myself at the secrets in my mind.
The cliche of it both aggravates and humors me.
I am a cliche in that I am not because in that instance,
I couple the scent with the sight of saliva stringing off the pink fleshy tongue of the fat panting English mastiff being walked my his fat panting English mastiff human.
And I smile to myself at the secrets in my mind.
How can something be so beautiful and so grotty at once?
Have I settled? Have I become accustomed to mediocrity?
She insists that I have and that the bread is too sweet here.
The line up of thin haired, slightly off kilter gentleman that pepper my past certainly suggests so.
Like a line up of petty thieves. Pretending to be dangerous.
Sort of.
For the story?
For the girl.
The rose may be wilting but it smells as sweet as the summer.
The summer attempting
to break up-------------the grey cloud
for the fifteenth time today...
I look ahead of me and walk on.
And I smile to myself at the secrets in my mind.