flaccid

An 80s punk: wine drunk and in love, walks down south of your borders with studded belt, deflated (flaccid) Mohawk died neon pink (in a truck stop sink)- you are the misery the lonely singers sing and my thumbs are painted green with the dignity of realizing the definition of infinity (and, the fact that you are not included in its beauty) our lives are finite so drink up with me tonight and let me mix my sweat with your sweat, swirl my blood in your blood until below becomes above and vice versa

(Writing in cursive)

Indeed, the tragedy is right in front of your face but never underestimate the power of denial my darling child

Let the sun see you smile. At least for a while. At least for a little while.