yebutz

i miss you my pet...remember days in monessen, breaking arms and drinking cheap beer and bloody bandages, and boys with mohawks, and smoking in the pizza shop

those my friend, were the days that we will look back on and say "those were the days"

Well, in my usual lack of journal update-y goodness, I missed the original request for poetry, but here's a bit of something of mine:

Untitled:

We played at war with pretty things.
Chrysanthemums,
catterpillars,
cascades of champagne mangroves.
Gunpowder, tame and parti-coloured
boom/pop/whistled-
heard 'round our TVs.

We set free fire flies one night,
for all the world to see,
to run and glory with sparklers,
down all the alls of power,
around the tick of time.

Simple, happy children
building castles in the air
of smoke and thunder,
from which to rule the world.