themouirtallah
Sometimes I get so hung up on the end,
on the death,
the denouement,
that its easy to forget when everything was
easy, new and naive.
Those small beginnings, dizzy and perfect,
that one can only grow from
hanging on death;
the impending denouement.
trickling trinket dazzling twirling
waltzing in air, under the winds unfurling
Rain. Healing rainy watershed.
I will never be great
always good
but never great.
this is my life,
such is my fate,
good at many things, i am,
like talking in yoda's dialect for instance.
But im aptly average,
which is what no one wants to be.
why is the word still rally?
I didnt like it yesterday but now since we are re-introduced I suppose I might as well make small talk.
Rally is such a roit.
Im in stitches hes so funny.
Rally the arms, Really the troops.
ready your weapons prepare to shoot,
prepare for death, prepare for war.
prepare for the grim hands that call you at the door.
Rally at the door, my valiant troops,
for no one will survive.
no one ever survives a war.
hover, my lover over me.
you are my cover.
hovering over me like a sullen cloud of september angst.
over and over, your tears pound on my forehead, my lover.