Streams Of Unconsciousness

So you can these precious remember
remember in my peach TS always was
the one on the bottom of the glass
of Hemingway full of shotgun don’t
I wish I was like Steve McQueen
standing in my aunt’s dining room
where she never had children with
the love of her life but they taught
me gold on black and answer if you
think you’ve got it right and try
new things and forget me nots and
cigars and pipes are the sweetest
scents when you mix them with aftershave
and catfood on the floor big darling
Casanova I never knew how perfect
love could be until you were reincarnated
and shared my comforter and kept
me safe and sang to me while a dead
whore slept between the mattress
and box springs in a place where
I woke up once and everyone was
gone everyone even the snowflakes
that fell got confused on the way down.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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