all the kings horses and all the kings men.

onetime in a bathroom stall burried underneath layers of curse words and "brave" confessions of love I read:


there is no specific recipe for anything

I stood there for awhile
then thought back to


WINTER


him
-
sitting on the ledge
clutching his skethobook quite tightly and looking down into the sea
with opaape
coffee colored eyes
leaking

all of our worries sink
when we remember
those damn dangily feet.

his shoes
both made for the right foot
his lungs
each built to bring him through
the street
the hill
the heART
of
reality


and everything in between.


when you close your eyes
boy
when you lay awake
wide asleep
wide awakeend

seduced by
the theif that longs for your misery

remember how reality
is as real as you make it?



the ocean might have large waves
and at times be confused with
a lake
a sea
a riverbed

something bettween

NO MATTER WHAT YOU HEARD
(involing this paticular article of happening)


story goes:

he drops his coin below
into the deep
luck
luck
luck

stored next to 4 billion question marks


skip to the part where you catch him riding his bike
to a funeral
to the bakery
to the house with the seaweed shutters
the water bed
where:
where he lays his spine
to sleep.


skip to the party where my insides
scream out
singing

this is not how it should be.