zaterdag 7 juli 2018

His wife said, hangover or not, you rarely make sense.




He was doing his best
but all the killin was killin him
in return.

Tried,

turning over a new leaf 
tried sleeping on his head in the shadows

either way he believed
 there would be
a new breed of bitches
needed to save the day.

Life had never truly been a utopia
Nor could he ever pass his ideal
through
the eye of a needle.

For the backend of ideals
are always
a bit too fat in the hips
of reality, anyway.

But that’s the way he claimed
to like it.

Deniers be damned.

don’t you agree?

at least on this

for today at least

lets forget about

that.

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