592.

The lantern eyes of
a nation's continuance
hold his memory.

591.

The sinuous grace
of her body flying through
the air is beauty.

590.

The sky is lit up
with over a million hopes
and stabbed, falling dreams.

589.

Love's proverbial
team fat kid, always picked last
except by led dicks.

588.

Never the chosen,
always intermediate,
and then traded in.

587.

I simply can't seem
to escape the overhang
of the gullible.

586.

The fragile under-
belly of the realist's heart,
whored out asunder.