The tulips are too red...they hurt me.
We stayed at home to write, to consolidate our outstretched selves.
I must bridge the gap between adolescent glitter and mature glow.
And there's the fallacy of existence: the idea that one could be happy forever and age with a given situation or series of accomplishments.
Let me sit in a flowerpot, The spiders won't notice. My heart is a stopped geranium.
Don't let the wicked city get you down.