love_leaves_me_bitter Death of a Rose if that is what you call it, love, this dedicated four letter word, a tidal pool jest, a wrapping in a mountain kingdom, trapped when left along the shouted path. The moisture of it, the texture of it, the absolute degredation of it; feeble panting, illusory witchcraft in the great division, given as gifts to the dead king. And I staring at the bent boughs of your weeping, slight and frail it seems to me. An insubstantial tombstone toppled upon the rust of my being. Revolving in the carpeted light, singing for no one but myself. 040831 ... pete resonance in my steel drum, echoing, banging, singing things, she said, are corny because everyone feels them and, she said, this song is corny so i will throw it away why, i said, if the feelings are real the betrayal the bitterness the angst, i said, are your true emotions when you wrote that song when you let your eyes unfocus, i said, will you deny that you feel by desposing of your truthful song? 040831 ... unhinged and i have to walk away from it for awhile may be selfish but what is giving without receiving? it can only be so emptied but it needs to be refilled he's not coming back dear she couldn't admit that she didn't want you, just your money and drugs and it is empty and bitter like the last dregs in my cup of strong, sweetened coffee a vessel empty nothing but walls that must be dried of the bitter dregs before they can be refilled 040831 ... unhinged back to the hermit cave for me 190527 what's it to you? who go blather from