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Where have you gone Marry Poppins? Need to hire some textile company to weave fabrics out of these words Paint by number philosophy I hold onto like 'Oh my God'handles of old Buicks. Just not safe. Gotta have air bags of lies to cushion the casualties, dashboards are too brutal, seatbelts too constrictive, false sense of shelter like a lovers embrace. "I don't want to let you go." And I won't. Just as alive as stone saints or JC Penny catalogues. Call me over the phone and I'll be there; synthetic as it may be. Doctored for preservation sake so we're never aware of how much time has passed, all these years we could've changed something, anything. Repaint the walls. Tear down posters of passion long gone. Break this fucking picture frame with your face still in it. Like the silhouette actually cares. As if all these paper lips will start moving, providing explanations that time never adhered to, that words will become flesh. Better used as pop up books, hints at live not yet lived, fortune cookies, chewed up and spit into the mouth of our children. Easier to swallow. 'Just a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down, medicine go dowwwn, Medicine go down.' |
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