Saturday, April 26, 2014

May You Live To Be One Hundred

So fickle, it makes you cry.
So indecisive.
Then, now, tomorrow
so indecisive.

They found joy at last.
They forgot to give it to you.

Hopelessly, three cigarettes.
A lot of rum.

Another night, sleepless.
The lights will not be turned off.
You will not be scared.
Another night, deathless.


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All things numb and Biprorshee