My Dear Stratosphere


She loves me, she love me not
She love me, she loves me not
She…..hm, ran out of rose petals
Matters not
I throw these plants out to rot
As if a plant should
or should I say
Could
Determine love for me
Two sides to your equation of
Glee
Sadly thee
Heart in my chest
was reserved for
Ye love of my life
The
Art
Of
Death
As I lay there both hands in back of me
Green blades of grass under my
finger tips
As the rain drips
Off my forehead
Racing to my chin
Felt like your tongue in reverse
Of
Sin
And I sit there
Eating cubes of oxygen
and
Drinking Triangles
of
Sunlight
I’m deaf and dumb to you now
not out of spite
But out of the hexagon
like heart I posses now
rippled by the fingers of many
to touch
H2O has bruised my brow
So I lay back, in the grass
Which has become
Melted Marsh mellows for my spine
In due time
The vultures shall vomit
from my boring corpse
as I wait
Brushing my hair with a lit
Torch
Fire has become my friend
Ironic enough
Water started to cut me too deep
The relationship was
Rough
Never understood why I stayed
on
Earth
And not in the clouds, inhaling
Sirius
But to be serious
I’ve had my Halo stolen from a group of children
That were a tad bit curious
My wings are in the dry cleaners now
So God damn it if I’m paying that still
I can’t even afford to sustain love
Not even in Hell

With a dice game won over Lucifer

Will I ever be able to afford
that
Bill

I’ve become so still

And Still

I’ve lost my voice

Shhh

This time I will

Will

With a Will

to go on

Without making a will

I prolong life

So like Mercury in thermometers
I spill
Because young people are too irresponsible
I’ve simply become
Oil
For the rest to
Drill.

Now let us sing songs with harps, and broken rules

Dance in the Exosphere

till the sun cools.

-Steve Rich

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About Oil Underneath

I drink glasses of cold water.
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