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Flaming Youth.

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does the sweet sentimentalism of her words cure you?

oh, the photographs. they lead to beautiful scriptures. scriptures scriptures and past loves too. they’re all so bittersweet they make you feel as if you’re home. you block out my words in hope that they’re wrong. in hope you’re not missing out.

while I deal with the memories too. my documented past life. When it didn’t matter if there was God, or meaning to the subtance of art I used to produce. The product of him and I. You have burned those letters in a wastebasket, cause the thought I have a soul would kill you.

Too many bittersweet moments in ode of our flaming youth, O the modern world.





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