Bittersweet

Nothing is new under the sun, all great romances have been played and done. Couple of decades under the great hangover with no accurate sense of our whereabouts and the days before and counting. Backwards and in full circles the pendulum swings, as September afternoon whiskeys and Viking ice cubes remain undisturbed in the shadow of rotating gears. Ashtray of Marlboro Reds collapses onto the payment, foaming at the clouds, treasure chest angry for pure hydrogen peroxide and your lips. Lick the ignition for a new world order disguised in things golden and immature. Feelings for one another are like aegis on a daemon yet we always presuppose an inevitable separation. From daydreams we fall and from invincibility we die. These are the content in dénouements of school grade peers to ascending Alexander scrolls. Unfathomable depths in the delights of flesh transcribed in a collection of famous amours begin to breach the atmospheric stench. A careless odor, one that travels far and back onto the ground of many evils where we preside. Mistaken for rosemary and fig, a blind foot follows the former and when trailing prints are finally noted, welcome to the lunacy forested.