Caricamento in corso...

I am in a world of shit.

Oliver Stone?

We all know the future invariably. We’ve even set it up. Call it fate.
No notion hasn’t been thunk before.
We wrestle to get anywhere, but here we are only dreaming.
Conspiring decoratively. “we’ll put it right in front of their face. Blood letting was once in fashion.
None of us can object that we all were purely scheming.”
So all of this, positively, you’ll leave with no trace. Look what I can do with a hula hoop or the burden of proof.
You always go last, get to know exactly it is you you’re gonna be passin’.
Kerosene and candles, beaconing light, now and sometime later.
There is a flame for you. Dark overlapping dark in the universe,
we both know it isn’t right. Do me this favor, next time around, even in never ending labor, there is always something close but not quite.
Oh, our poor, history. I blame my parents for my ability to lie. I used to believe in their fables and laugh as i cried. Build carousels for only refugees, the like minded, then those who want but don’t reply. You can spit in my face, piss on my leg, here is mud in your eye.

Altre opere di David Schieres...



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