1554.

Until the night of
drunken debauchery sets
out its irony.

1553.

Almost a sense of
soul's necrophilia here.
Everyone stays fucked.

1552.

Potential patients
huddled under bright lights and
dying, painted trees.

1551.

Psychology must
love the holiday pathos
for its rich fodder.

1550.

As if one day on
a calendar offered true
amnesia and hope.

1549.

Then a quick return
from delusions until the
quest for renewal.

1548.

A game set toward
bribery for accepted
behavior. Christmas.

1547.

And reality
gets suspended for bare days
disguised as mass cheer.

1546.

Always forgetting
to count the many missing
from its weighted roster.

1545.

How odd it is, the
atrocities called up
by the greater good.

1544.

Oppression, found in
all the plenty put aside.
Hoarding and evil.

1543.

Who is left to tell
the stories of the silenced?
Just quiet echoes.

1542.

The alarming ghosts
accumulated in the
ground we walk upon.

1541.

These long night are dressed
in shadows and longing. A
full spectrum of need.

1540.

A fragility
in progress. Woman inverts
to child. Floundering.

1539.

This redundancy
ignored for the play of mimes.
Movement without sound.

1538.

Perhaps forgetting
is the most freedom one could
know. Sisyphean.

1537.

The damages we
must keep tethered by the need
to ply memory.

1536.

What if the after-
death is nothing more than the
wish to forget life?

1535.

I wonder what ghosts
hide in the rafters of our
homes, always watching.

1534.

If only the will
for difference could make it
be. Idealism.

1533.

The dark corners keep
calling to me. Succor and
begging. Foundations.

1532.

He spoke about how
his heart would change her life. Such
ego and threat, one.

1531.

Freezing nights and lost
motivations. A brutal
autumn cessation.

1530.

Redundancy in
progress. Words always supplant
the needed motions.

1529.

The fight to keep me
says more than the effort to
just leave ever will.

1528.

Overexposure
and stunted escapism.
A romantic's dream.

1527.

Hearts moving in a
thousand backwards struggles. A
search on direction.

1526.

A species bent on
its own blind destruction. Call
it all just willful.

1525.

If only the past
kept a queue to the present.
May lend difference.

1524.

An echo for all
the loss that persists from such
an ugly virus.

1523.

A low, lull, and then
lifting. Cycles and all their
repeating fodder.

1522.

A belated sense
of grace found in this steady
heart's play on moodswings.

1521.

The celebration
wears more like nostalgia for
the unknown today.

1520.

The precursor to
a staged revival never
cast to its real truth.

1519.

I wish I could trust
the pictures you cast but the
lessons grow weary.

1518.

Your mouth is always
full of what sounds right, but that
heart? Questionable.

1517.

An imbalance from
its inception. Power should
never be empty.

1516.

The idea of you
makes me hunger and ache. Slow
and ever burning.

1515.

A cacophony
abounds even in quiet
stillness. Such tumult.

1514.

If only my brain
came with an off switch or at
least some part dimmer.

1513.

A will to have my
choice both retained and taken.
Nonsense solutions.

1512.

Sometimes I wish that
I could press your mind into
my skin. Imprinting.

1511.

A paradise built
on stilts. Everyone is kept
pedestal falling.

1510.

The inversion of
sentiment and actual.
Imbalanced vision.

1509.

A disconsolate
little flower always left
to wilting. Poor me.

1508.

An excuse on how
far the lapse has been left just
missing. So pointless.

1507.

I long for you more
than your reality could
ever live up to.

1506.

If only wishing
were enough to make some slight
difference. Hope, falling.

1505.

She pines for things that
she's never had. Dreams are no
solace left unmade.

1504.

If only honor
were more than a feigned word. Where
did we leave meaning?

1503.

Time just keeps passing
as if mimes were fisting the
soul. Empty taunting.

1502.

A disconsolate
view. The pervading masses.
Glory in shadows.

1501.

How can you see the
sun when your heart has gone blind?
Only darkness lives.

1500.

Equity a dream
sold before experience
can name it a lie.

1499.

The balance is off
as the world tilts to extremes.
Everyone falls here.

1498.

Emotion's landscape,
a stark vision of future
depression. Circles.

1497.

The sky constantly
set to portend. Fall swallowed
by early winter.

1496.

Empty hopes for time
recaptured. Sisyphus set
on each horizon.

1495.

Hearts remain full when
reminded of its fulsome
past in life and love.

1494.

The honor of life
hides in the praise of saints held
as celebration.

1493.

Tonight will be full
of food, fire, and frights. End
alliteration.

1492.

Candy, cold, and cute
children loom through the long day.
A juncture of bliss.

1491.

Fortunately, this
season comes dressed in brilliant
senses' subterfuge.

1490.

If only joy were
not such a fleeting pass of
emotions. Come back.

1489.

Sorrow overlooks
the beauty held in its true
underside. Searching.

1488.

Solace found in the
familiar. Everyone opts
for misery here.

1487.

A constant voodoo
against oneself with knives thrust
bent to sabotage.

1486.

Games of diversion
and supplementation. Heart
set on denial.

1485.

An exploitation
of the underside prevails.
Just victims live here.

1484.

Patchwork remedies
coat that heart in a fragile
defense. Built on cracks.

1483.

Even dyslexic
lines still merit the same end
when run parallel.

1482.

Emotions cast off
for the chase of pleasure. As
if they weren't still tied.

1481.

A constant effort
bent on forgetting all that
will ever matter.

1480.

Even a heart can
die if left to a damaged
beating. Just drowning.

1479.

Here angels leap from
roofs as standard in a false
belief that wings fly.

1478.

Honor more catchphrase
than meaning as disrepair
favors the plenty.

1477.

Windmills line every
corner while sleeping knights sow
a life's discontent.

1476.

A history full
of its own misconceptions.
Always left tilting.

1475.

Here the heart travels
full of suitcases rife with
another's baggage.

1474.

A game of cycles.
Each turn requiring a
new check of its weights.

1473.

Eventually
the necessary changes
find their own balance.

1472.

How quickly the tone
turns a morose corner in
need of leavening.

1471.

Soon the shift to new
will feel less foreign and just
inevitable.

1470.

A moody refrain
to dress the season in some
backwards ode. Honor.

1469.

I used to look for
people sharing my birthday.
Now I resent them.

1468.

Hours built in flux.
Anticipation quickly
will turn to sadness.

1467.

Between us hangs these
few days. Both benediction
and reprieve. Joining.

1466.

He speaks in smoke and
cynicism. A mask on
that beautiful heart.

1465.

It is doubtful that
anyone will bear your same
meaning. Forever.

1464.

The psalms of belief
are etched in my spine and spilled
from my veins. Bleeding.

1463.

Bodies are bent as
furniture and lit like shrines.
Soul's genuflecting.

1462.

Survival the game
of tattered hearts looking for
some part shared future.

1461.

Always left praying
that between us the ground won't
split. Set, division.

1460.

Together, we're just
a cataclysm of motion.
Fault lines in progress.

1459.

Each moment of this
discovery unearths a
deeper longing. Please.

1458.

Fragility and
beauty too often meet at
the corner of loss.

1457.

Sometimes we loose the
strings of grounded mores. Praying
the wind will carry.

1456.

Grasping avarice
guised as hearts devours each
hope before escape.

1455.

Too often the lure
of memory tethers to
earth those meant to fly.

1454.

The world is bursting
in a dress homage to warmth
and vibrant color.

1453.

Summer ends in a
haze of longing, unfulfilled.
A fall to renew.

1452.

If only your faith
could dress my skin and shore up
bones for safekeeping.

1451.

Sometimes I want to
rub my mouth against yours just
to taste those feelings.

1450.

I swear that his words
offer promises and sweet
succor. Intended.

1449.

A crawling hunger
to sate the beast inside. Set
for constant failure.

1448.

The push and pull of
romance only forces an
empty confusion.

1447.

The unvoiced longing
in my throat stays set to choke.
Self masochism.

1446.

I fear that this heart
will always float adrift, no
matter the ties found.

1445.

There is such beauty
and wonder in the world just
waiting to be found.

1452.

If only your faith
could dress my skin and shore up
bones for safekeeping.

1444.

Here our entire
relationship is full of
long, missed translations.

1443.

It is every-
thing you don't say that I most
need to feel. Yearning.

1442.

Watching your hands move
in slow speech's matching is
a soft symphony.

1441.

Her heart is cast in
muddled parables that just
confuse base meaning.

1440.

This family is
rooted in a history
that escapes its seeds.

1439.

The emptiness of
pursuit just leaves hearts set to
stasis. Loneliness.

1438.

I look too hard for
other people to fill in
the gaps of my heart.

1437.

A season dressed up
in tired platitudes and
worthless conjecture.

1436.

Too soon this day will
end. Long before most of us
realized its passing.

1435.

That beautiful boy,
cherub faced and sarcastic,
fills this day's pleasure.

1434.

Stuck believing that
reality is something
to come instead here.

1433.

Intention and the
real caught in a constant state.
Static inversion.

1432.

A will for hope to
fill the cracks that heartbreak too
often takes over.

1431.

A brain can't ever
be transplanted. The dead roots
here must learn regrowth.

1430.

This head forgets so
much more than it ever learned.
Lost dismemberment.

1429.

My words are always
a translation in broken
progress. Stuttering.

1428.

This world better suits
its dreamers than realists.
Survival heart lapsed.

1427.

A borrowed culture
to fill in the cracks of what
is always missing.

1426.

Identity a
catchword that just escapes the
grasp of so many.

1425.

So much of who we
are is propped up like nothing
more than skin. Empty.

1424.

Discordant wishes
that ignore the hope of stars
to just see the fall.

1423.

I will probably
die never understanding
what the word love means.

1422.

Your words mimed out as
solace are instead just an
art of slow murder.

1421.

An imbalanced scale
always set to teetering.
Lost security.

1420.

Futility in
skin, dressed up like empty husks
of coupling. Marriage.

1419.

This refrain always
set to repeat. Weary of
an endless process.

1418.

The impetus that
sits behind those eyes is a
game of heart's, stabbing.

1417.

A fever dressed like
intention that just spreads the
disease on its tongue.

1416.

Armor only has
meaning if you ignore its
cracks. Vulnerable.

1415.

Usurpation a
dream for beaten conquerers.
Too many windmills.

1414.

Barbarians and
cowards alone hold the reins
in this fragile heart.

1413.

A game of feints that
between us feels almost just
hereditary.

1412.

An inversion by
proxy. Slight of heart in the
methods. Redundant.

1411.

A frustration of
the senses. Stymied at its
fledgling, slight efforts.

1410.

I hate that I will
never be your first any-
thing worth memory.

1409.

This heart was built on
lies and only understands
procrastination.

1408.

I search through pictures
of my family, long dead,
trying to find me.

1407.

I always carry
you around like so much worth-
less baggage. Heavy.

1406.

Each press of bodies
an affirmation of flesh
and souls, united.

1405.

That memory stays
locked in head, fresh despite its
distance. Talisman.

1404.

She searches out words
and repeats them under breath.
Psalms and comfort, one.

1403.

These late nights are full
of yearning and restlessness.
An escaped solace.

1402.

Nothing haunts me as
much as your refusal to
let go of our dream.

1401.

A wonder the whole
world is not called disorder.
Mentally ill, all.

1400.

Tightropes and all the
falling always threatening.
Just danger ahead.

1399.

A limbo of growth
that keeps all women little
girls and men just boys.

1398.

A crowded stage of
influence so caught up in
acts stead truth. Parents.

1397.

A thousand nettles
crawling along these ribs to
turn inward, stabbing.

1396.

We are all hoarders
when it comes to the secrets
in our histories.

1395.

A door held closed by
the heart's rusted hinges. Just
left to a creaking.

1394.

Words upended in
the search for solace. Far and
wide, voices crying.

1393.

Images invert
and collapse in this mirror.
Illusions and lies.

1392.

An institution
of apologies in flesh.
Always left sinking.

1391.

I hide from myself.
Pretend these cobbled nerves knew
some difference of light.

1390.

I stare at pictures
and wonder at what was seen.
A moment caught, lost.

1389.

If only our shared
loneliness could create a
person to fill it.

1388.

Millions of souls are
looking up at this sky too
and praying for change.

1387.

Will I ever learn
that this heart is enough all
on its fragile own?

1386.

Inconveniences
masked as obligations. Set
to our destruction.

1385.

Often my tongue is
so busy noting my faults
that the rest falters.

1384.

A backwards effort
on inversion, turned out. No
one fits another.

1383.

Always chasing down
some sound that never allows
itself to be held.

1382.

My ribs are filled with
empty rooms that just reverb
back this heart's echoes.

1381.

Love is always a
rough commodity to make
for trades. Just makes loss.

1380.

Fables and all their
charm just create illusions
for (k)nights to conquer.

1379.

Cobbled together
wishes make a purpose, but
not a driving need.

1378.

Sometimes I think that
hearts were just built as engines.
Parts but not a whole.

1377.

A small window on
the finite nature of life.
It blooms and then dies.

1376.

The ground is covered
in petals and stalks. Fragile
beauty in progress.

1375.

The night draws too long
on the previous day's hold.
An inverted will.

1374.

A day cast to flags,
fireworks, and food. This is
such America.

1373.

The stifling movement
of the world's built friction let
out to play today.

1372.

Oh sweet internet,
letting us troglodytes out
to play at human.

1371.

Finger paints mar the
cusp of beauty in divine
parts ineptitude.

1370.

The world as run by
its predators. Always out
hunting destruction.

1369.

Such analogous
splendor in the balance. All
sides remain offset.

1368.

The last cry of a
faltering heart's invention.
Engines stop moving.

1367.

Nothing can be made
new without inspiration.
Creation dying.

1366.

Opportunities
squandared and redundancy
marked efforts abound.

1365.

Compromise treated
like the bastard stepchild for
abuse endorsements.

1364.

A balance of sides
rather than absolutist
patterns of extremes.

1363.

Upended purpose
and the collectivism
it appears to need.

1362.

The world as caught up
by self-centered focus where
only you matter.

1361.

What purpose does a
heart unkept have other than
just a slow beating?

1360.

More meaning in the
ideals than the living there.
Always set return.

1359.

Cycles and souls that
stay in persistent passage
of expectation.

1358.

A continual
return back to the earth that
holds our growth, rooted.

1357.

Time the most brutal
of reminders on just how
short a long life is.

1356.

Today is held up
for wishes more than the truth
to many children.

1355.

Calendars marking
some memorial of the
loss of moving time.

1354.

We dress so many
days up as some idea of
honor on paper.

1353.

The impending fall
of the senses as engulfed
by youth's passing time.

1352.

These months are built on
yearning and lures, held up by
the summer looming.

1351.

A thousand lures of
flesh. An eye's feast made hungry
by slow seduction.

1350.

I would coat myself
in your voice and call this skin
a constant tempting.

1349.

The nights of this time
of year are sheer perfection.
Breezes and moonlight.

1348.

The sun spirals its
own hypnosis in the sky.
Mere mortals, beware.

1347.

Time seems to pass so
much quicker here. Age winding
down its own patience.

1346.

There is no longer
any respite from pattern's
return. Just vengeance.

1345.

The weather is now
displaced and nature angry.
Their beasts turn burden.

1344.

Broken scales make up
this landscape. Earth upended
by machinations.

1343.

The weight of living
costs its own survival. A
bare dichotomy.

1342.

An imbalance of
beauty and destruction here,
always left hanging.

1341.

Tonight my throat is
full of the world's emotions.
Choking and stuttered.

1340.

Want confused with need
as acquisition becomes
the only purpose.

1339.

The spoiled fruits we
take so for granted. Nations
of the gluttonous.

1338.

Still, the stacked glory
of history holds its own
recognition here.

1337.

Such cold comfort a
memory can hold against
heart's pervasive grief.

1336.

If only the loss
could quantify its meaning
in fruition.

1335.

One day's surfeit on
paper honors before the
return. Loss and death.

1334.

Calendars stacked up
in memorial. The lost
and taken. Constant.

1333.

A nostalgia there
for what will never be known
or now remembered.

1332.

An explanation,
perhaps, for humanity's
fast decline. Progress.

1331.

Slaves to impetus
over choice. Breathing robots.
Fundamental base.

1330.

Flesh houses captive
to its frailties. Moving just
means a certain death.

1329.

We dress breathing up
as mindfulness and thus the
human monkeys play.

1328.

The machines of these
bodies, faulty and failing
make up such filler.

1327.

The opiate of
pointlessness masked as meaning.
Or, routine living.

1326.

Set to fabricate
what can't be seen naturally.
Empty belonging.

1325.

We're all such lonely
creatures just dreaming for some
sort of connection.

1324.

So desperate to
feel a love that certainty
casts impossible.

1323.

A will to take what
one feels and replicate it
across your body.

1322.

I am a sucker
for people who cast hearts and
flesh, mundane, as love.

1321.

Today is dressed in
honor and memory as
a thank you for birth.

1320.

Sometimes I wish words
could be manifest as their
meanings. Vowel salve.

1319.

The days stretching out
as if reaching for that sun.
A constant longing.

1318.

The sun set in your
eyes tonight. Shining back that
light out. Luminous.

1317.

The earth is a child,
always left chasing stars and
clouds across the ground.

1316.

I could sit under
this sky forever and still
never be quite full.

1315.

The day is painted
in sun and light. A vision
of benediction.

1314.

Stereotypes and
mistaken history fill
up this day's richness.

1313.

Now there is a gulf
that holds our distances both
close and set apart.

1312.

I used to kneel on
that floor/bed/seat and fill my
mouth with you. Empty.

1311.

Your eyes cast outward
like constellations. Beauty
and myth, out of reach.

1310.

I used to believe
in you like others might in
Jesus. Lost faith hurts.

1309.

Each memory lost
as a mix of salve or psalm.
Always some cover.

1308.

A spectrum cast to
opposites and magnetic
counter-attractions.

1307.

Here emotional
maelstroms are routine. So much
habit in breaking.

1306.

Trying to form and
frame pictures around that small,
beaten heart within.

1305.

Here we fold and twist
these small letters together
and apart. Meaning.

1304.

We living creatures
should take greater care with each
others' purpose here.

1303.

A reciprocal
union of biology
that enfolds us all.

1302.

Just remember that
you are an integral part
of that system too.

1301.

Taking care of the
roots that center us by its
base ecology.

1300.

There's still time to plant
your tree dreams with foliage
over permanence.

1299.

Pointless efforts with
no meaning past its ego.
Just live, here, right now.

1298.

So much of life spent
on forming a legacy
for a missed future.

1297.

If only we could
have learned from the Nazcas and
their lasting designs.

1296.

The entirety
of living comes back to some
play on Aida.

1295.

A will turned toward
creation, stunted at its
beginning. Circles.

1294.

Each day some copy
of its preceding. Endless
torture for the soul.

1293.

The mire of life
held under the minutiae
of relentless work.

1292.

A Dali painting
come to life. Eyes cast to slow
surreality.

1291.

Every moment just
turned back from beauty in a
cynic's weary view.

1290.

Clouds become anchors
set for a constant hanging.
Idealism's end.

1289.

A slow crawl toward
inexorable futures.
The depressive's dream.

1288.

Spring is already
wearing heavy this year. A
miasma of change.

1287.

The only savior
in any story, always,
is the narrator.

1286.

A lesson there for
everyone. Grouped and singles,
victimizers all.

1285.

The perfect fodder
for destruction to get feet
and thus momentum.

1284.

A confused state of
play, when safety becomes a
steady presumptive.

1283.

Who saves the soul when
the owner is intended
as the killer too?

1282.

The machines inside
left to a persistent stage
of a forced drowning.

1281.

A will persists in
terms of destruction here. Spears
turned inward, stabbing.

1280.

We are all fools in
this heart's design of constant
beating. Masochist.

1279.

Just a mask of need
cast to imagination
and desperate hope.

1278.

A game of saving
that does not recognize its
own set weaponry.

1277.

Upended hearts and
the intentions that wear down
their so needed tread.

1276.

The weariness of
the benefactors who must
stay tuned to giving.

1275.

The work of saving
never completed. Always
another need found.

1274.

The sky is dressed in
fantasy tonight. Dreams and
heroes on soft clouds.

1273.

A voraciousness
masked as escape. The center
from which we all come.

1272.

How hungry is this
ground? Always reaching upwards
for better fodder.

1271.

Stuttered progress and
bent lines. A train's worst nightmare.
Engines made worthless.

1270.

A diaspora
of function found in fragile
heart's ethos system.

1269.

The clocks set to keep
winding down our bodies back
to earth's memory.

1268.

Hearts open today
in hopes that the sky will soon
follow. Hello spring.

1267.

A wonder how the
idea of scales ever found
some balance. Discord.

1266.

Humans are such odd
creatures, fed a steady meal
of hurt and defense.

1265.

Drunken labor lost
here. Masks of joy hidden in
those empty bottles.

1264.

Mathematical
inversions on the upswing.
Heart economics.

1263.

Surrender and its
counter momentum. Steady
course for sharp progress.

1262.

Only in those dark
ashes will truth be found in
the ground's autopsy.

1261.

There will be no heart's
lithograph for futures to
follow. Just escape.

1260.

Weary of my own
trudging circles. Matchsticks need
burn, long in the night.

1259.

Shared platforms only
leave the grounds for a falling.
Brace those fragile parts.

1258.

Then a saving, masked
in caricature. Mimes and
birds nest here lover.

1257.

Grudging limbs unbend
only for a crucifix.
Martyrdom of hearts.

1256.

A grudging habit
made up of locks and bondage.
A forced surrender.

1255.

Trapping what will not
be released. This is not love.
Just a slow forcing.

1254.

Paint me a window
so I can escape the lock
of your intentions.

1253.

Nothing but disease
follows this endless pattern.
Regurgitation.

1252.

A weary road with
no end in sight. Change must be
taken to get chance.

1251.

A chest's circle jerk,
just repeating its own slight
redundancies on.

1250.

A distant courtship
that always bears excuses
'stead culminations.

1249.

Even if you call
them love, they are still wounding.
Spilling a heart's blood.

1248.

Still, a pedestal
is no place to bear arrows.
Weapons, not measures.

1247.

A face pressed down in-
to those ribs for completion.
But masks never count.

1246.

Especially when
someone else always ends up
with their love returned.

1245.

Such a long time to
speak in code through a thrum
of heartbeats, fractured.

1244.

The only import
given the first time it was
spoken. Never since.

1243.

Always repeating
some dull message no longer
counting for meaning.

1242.

Spoken in empty
gyrations, pantomiming
just one mouth's small script.

1241.

Sometimes I feel we
will never be close enough,
even pressed in flesh.

1240.

A psalm of fingers,
spread like hungry starfish on
your skin. Still hungry.

1239.

I would stitch a new
window between our heads just
for a shared reverb.

1238.

The country a land-
scape, scars and manufacture.
An empty vision.

1237.

A bleeding offer
of promise and warning, as
one. Devouring.

1236.

A will to swallow
down another heart's soul. Our
mouths flush with romance.

1235.

Bodies marked by their
responses to each other.
Hot skin and motion.

1234.

A day built on hearts'
exploitation and demand.
Chocolate all around.

1233.

The oddest of months
with outlined some fodder
to winter's dull show.

1232.

Ironic like this
day's union of party and
emancipation.

1231.

Sinuous and full
of sleights, tricks, and poisoning.
The herald of sin.

1230.

An odd timed effort
for this aptly named entrance
to the year of snake.

1229.

Where intimacy
becomes a matter of screens
instead of bodies.

1228.

Humans choosing to
make themselves their own little
masked redundancy.

1227.

When machines are the
primary means of reaching
out to another.

1226.

Banality masked
in the surreal. The under-
pinnings of the world.

1225.

As a world just built
on reason would persist in
its own Kafka dream.

1224.

Religion and make
believe, the foundations of
each society.

1223.

The story of us
narrowed down to its subtext.
All superstition.

1222.

A season hostage
to the whims of a rodent.
Charming tradition.

1221.

1221. - 1 National Freedom Day A hollow auspice
of freedom, inverted. The
story of the world.

1220.

Betrayal of the
heart within by each breath and
beat without return.

1219.

Culpable guilt points
back at everyone in the
room. We're such liars.

1218.

Held under the same
oath to hypocrisy seen
in overt stating.

1217.

A philosophy
of passive ineptitude,
always just spreading.

1216.

Inverted progress,
the social design. Echoes
spent for deafness back.

1215.

Nothing accomplished
in a constant game of feint
and mirrors. Watching.

1214.

Held up by days when
every word seems to hold the
same meaning. Circles.

1213.

The narrow study
of society at a
glance. So presumptive.

1212.

Limp intentions and
their weak constitutions. Both
real and imagined.

1211.

A base realism
that distorts its own vision.
Circle jerks abound.

1210.

Dreams hang up the moon
with a thousand wishes cast
aside in waking.

1209.

Held up by first starts
that are just repetition.
Only time changes.

1208.

A masochists kind
of paradise, turned at the
hand of heart's sadist.

1207.

Harsh words masked as soft
daggers. Cutting up speakers
from the inside out.

1206.

A backwards kind of
tone given its impetus.
Contradiction whore.

1205.

Expect less patience
for the falls and more effort
to keep us standing.

1204.

I love you bastards
too much to play mime to these
shadows, pervading.

1203.

So let's take a bit
more time shoring up the parts
under tender skin.

1202.

Cause the consequence
without are too heartbreaking
to be considered.

1201.

Tough love in progress.
Held up with a touch of the
bitter bitchery.

1200.

So stop being such
selfish little cunts. Yeah, I
went there, you fuckers.

1199.

I'd rather have you
all around than memories
of empty vices.

1198.

Because these machines
are made up of such fragile
parts. Handle gently.

1197.

Before our bodies
give out on this cycle of
routine abuses.

1196.

We have to learn how
to take better care of our-
selves and each other.

1195.

Rare cancers and heart
diseases. Multiple by-
passes and chemo.

1194.

My heart, and all of
yours, can't keep taking this kind
of punishment. Please.

1193.

That holds one single
common denominator.
So quit smoking kids.

1192.

Highlit by the sheer
expanse of illnesses that
keep on littering.

1191.

It's all fire and
ashes now. A life coated
in muted embers.

1190.

How quickly the change
will dissipate as the year
presses on. Backwards.