Untitled 7

He told her he loved her as she ate lead and aspirin. The brains on the wall are still thinking of you, the pluck of violin evokes nothing, then the chorus, the girl of your dreams. The one who slipped away, broken string. The sun and the moon are in constant harmony. one rises one sets, one schedule for millions of years. yet they have never met, never even gotten close. Opposite sides of our planet always. one constantly is action molecularly, the other sedentary as a rock because frankly, thats what it is. Is heaven on the moon and hell on the sun? if that were true then would it be safe to say that we live on the middle ground, limbo, purgatory, than we're already dead.