"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Monday, April 24, 2017


Just another night in the city,
faces set in stone but not grey -
they're dyed brightly by the lights,
watercolors mixed by hopelessness.

Leftover rain drips from the wires
like lazy condensation,
this whole world is summer
on the sweaty edge of a glass.

And just like it should,
the heat rises, slowly, and then
the rush, the boiling and bubbling
and every thermometer reads red.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Run the Jewels, A Report to the Shareholders/Kill Your Masters

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