Beer in Green bottles aka A POS TRoPHy denotes POshezzSHUN

Drinking in the guise of social grace, shaved pate prickly razor burned and heated. Slurred protracted diction exuding the talk sick demeanor of those angry for anger's sake.

The manager's wake, we walked. Toasting the memory, suckling the sheet music. Songs made sad fore in depressions stead we stalked with loose ties the tendons taut and sadness brewing inside like old coffee with newspaper filters. She invests money in good times like some do in NASDAQ. Some rafts. Float with a purpose while others glide on the surface with no direction other than an eventual destination. Commensurate prizes awarded for differing amounts of effort put forth. In fifths, with faux smiles that lacquer the depression with meager amounts of contentment. Republicans in this case can quaff liberally with the left. With no cessation in moderation, waiting. For coffins to be lowered, glowering yet galvanized by the notion that any one of us can be next. Weve all be caught necking with death and been lucky enough to escape with only a hickey. The sickle's love bites left in perpetuity in the form of a windshield spidered by a forehead. Forethought in third gear grabbing the guardrail and the only lesson we glean from the incident is the inference that getting bent is the only thing weve lived for.

Last thoughts are rarely ruminated upon. These could be mine. Yet her smile makes me hate the fact that I resist. Some spike a vane chord in those they dont know, while others are always approachable. Sonambulatory breast stroke through the deep end of discussion quipping all the while about those who dwell.

Being the broken blade of a busted screw that turns a ship twice as big as the infinity ones mind can fathom. Sinking deeper than three times the last sentences final word.

apostrophe