Lemme tell ya

Lemme tell YOU
If its not raining outside
And you're inside complaining about
Weather
You might be from a planet made of kazoos.
How fucking annoying.
That's how it is
When I sit in a coffee shop
And someone
Has turned
My favorite
Jazz song
Into
A christmas song.
That's how you feel
When you're a kid
And your temporary tattoo wears off.
That's how you feel
As a grown up
When someone calls your tasks "little"
Or "cute"
That's how a skunk feels
When he tap dances.
That's how I looked
At my first prom
I heard I looked beautiful
But by the time my father ever told me
I forgot whose name I was listening for.
That's how you feel
When you cut onions
You fucking cry
Because this week
Has made me weak
Because this month
Is a moth
Humping
The luminous glow
Of  candle lit shit.
Because lemme tell ya
That's just how nature works

                            I woke up once,
                                           & realized
                I                  hate                dreaming
            because    I                       love

                it    so                     much.

             If you don't know what I mean...

                                 i think
that means...
                          you're awake.

every once in a while
I say every swear word I know
all at once.

college, jobs, cars & parties

People seem amazed once they get to know about my life
how uninteresting it is.
I like how uninteresting it seems.

Seems are however, seamy.

life has a way of being life
without college, jobs, cars & parties.
without a yellow brick road.
without imaginary friends
who love me
and value my opinion like it is sacred
and look like tin men.

I have never met a cowardly Lion.

there has been very little in this life, that has been
primly paved, & made for me.
With scare crows that wave at me and say

"Well! HI THERE!"

smiley faces :)
do not exist in the final draft of my life. :(
and there is no due date, (?-?-?)
just an expected date to return. (?-?-?)
whatever that means. (?-?-?!!!!!)

Nope.

 This "life" guy... he sneaks up, finds you and says

"SUCKA!"

and sock'em-bops you.

Just like those infomercials
you secretly wished
you were cast in.
Just so you could have those damn sock-em-boppers
red and blue
big, inflatable, face-doom.

fuck our own hands, THOSE ARE WHAT'S UP.

ALAS,
plastic hands are plastic hands.
and if you slice them, they'd deflate.
that's the difference.
our hands,
they bleed.


This soul searching.
It's a gift I've been given.

thank you world.

I say it again.

thank you.

I've been silently stewing
on memories I've left brewing
for years and years.
And if I expect to know anything
about anyone
I'd sure like it to be me.
For I am responsible
for love.
And that is precious.

The somewhere else

I am sitting down.
My feet smell.
I hate my dog (currently)
we are broken up.
Because he continues to abuse my leg, sexually.
I pretend I am somewhere else.
There are clouds where I imagine.
It' is a NO hump zone,
The dog forgets my leg
he finds a slutty pillow.
I close my eyes and remember that place I was building
Clouds, Trees,
you know, the place..the eh..
The... somewhere else.
That place.
That's the place I'm building!
The somewhere else.
Sunny,
Singing!
somewhere else-
Violin Spiders,
orchestrate an even bigger picture,
and bring me to the dark room in the back of my mind.
They play their abdomens slowly.
Like Jaws is approaching my subconscious...



 I am.



All my shark eyes see are negatives of love.
truly the most truth I've spoken in years.
The negatives of love.
Because they ARE there.
They are upside down.
They are a demonic, delightful interpretation
of the most posed moments in my life.
"SMILE."

These moments-

I guess they come with a price,
I hear it's a heart,
but-
some people say it's just time.

And some people are liars.

some people.

tell the truth.

it's all out there.


Either way,
if you don't mind being robbed & impolitely tickled

you can fall in love.

I like hands.
I can fall in love with those things.
I like to look at those things,
because usually, they tell a story so compelling,
it can only be told by the history of the sun.

the sun,
that's who knows your skin the most, right?
Even when I was away from my mother,
there was the sun.

I hated playgrounds
I hated urine soaked bark
I hated blisters from monkey bars
I hated underwear
and I loved wearing dresses
^^^I asked someone to add all that up once
and do the math
they just reported me as spam.
So I put myself in a can
and stayed in there until the day I moved.

I like the cat, he's alright.
He's an asshole,
but so am I.
Sometimes I know we agree on things.
I know he knows I'm never right.
I know that too.
I admire the cat for being honest,
even if he can't speak.

I'll have one bottle of wine please.
hold the cheese.
that's a rotten joke.
I hate the word rotten.
I wish I could have told a better joke than my life.
I wish I would have kept flash card popsicle sticks in my pocket
for such an emergency.
I keep building the somewhere else.
the somewhere else.

Everyone says
 "it shouldn't have been him."
 or
 "It shouldn't have been her."
 And today, I am everyone. (no1)
 It shouldn't have been you.
 And I don't know who it should have been...
It just SHOULDN'T have been you.
Maybe it shouldn't be ANYONE.
Maybe Death
should use the same GPS I used
when I got lost in Sacramento for 3978577986568 years.
Thats how old you should have lived to be.
3978577986568 YEARS OLD.
Shoulds. Shoulds. Shoulds.
And I am frozen, utterly numb.
Feeling ridiculous.
Feeling over dressed when I stand naked.
Feeling over dressed when I stand clothed.
I should wear nothing.
I should wear something.
I should
I should
EXCEPT
I am over dressed.
for such a sad, miserable occasion.
I am over dressed-
And every day
I spend knowing you're never coming back
I imagine myself happily forgetting my days
Until I can see you again.
When I get out of bed I have MOVED TOO MUCH.
And when I fall asleep I have spent too much time forgetting.
Not hitting the stupid refresh button in my mind.
I remember your smile so clearly I can see it in every bright light.
The sun.
The moon.
I spend some nights forgetting my days
I spend some days forgetting my nights
and some days and some nights I forget everything
And here I am.
Canvas,

that's what you said we were.

canvas...

 But in this dream I had,
I ripped apart my Mona Lisa.
I ripped it apart so bad it felt like FINALLY I could get even... with me.
I felt TOO much.
I missed you so bad my teeth fell out of my gums.
I missed you so bad my hands became guns.
I missed you so bad that my eyes fell asleep wide awake.
It shouldn't have been.
It shouldn't have been.
logically,
emotionally,
should haves
and should hads
nothings
and everythings
and who gives a fuck.
 You should be here.
And I miss you.
And I miss you with the whole world.
I know you can hear me,
or at least you can feel me.
so feel this, I love you.

Eggactly.

I am Currently The egg Scrambling, With all my last transparent & runny thoughts. I remember my omelet aspirations. And scramble. Faster. Faster.

I like to pretend I'm complex. So that way When I inevitably remain human I'll have twice the excuses. I like to play with mirrors And look deep into the stacking tunnels of dimension And pretend for the first time ever I am afraid of myself. This is more entertaining than the truth.

Absent fear

absent fears,
Which rug have you been swept under?
It has been far too long since I've seen the shadow,
Of my ego,
Swarming the decour.
And falling like flies.
Absent fears,
I don't think I miss you.
Because the bliss of being
so goddamn tired
Keeps me on the lighter side.
Absent fears,
Timid and aging,
Wine stored,
Cork down.
Breaking down,
The smaller elements.
Producing, a bitter, chalky taste.
Absent fears,
I think its arrousing,
To sit in my room,
Cursing your figures-
So clearly mooning my thoughts.
You flip me off, and show me no mercy.
You fuck around,
And come home late.
Right before I'm sleeping,
Curled up, so content,
You shake my body ill,
You remind me of that evil,
You remind me of splintered glass,
You remind me of death,
You remind me of life
You remind me of love, now gone.
You remind me of pain.
You remind me I love.
You remind me I'm ill.
You remind me I'm hilarious.
You remind me I'm insane.
You remind me I'm a woman.
You remind me I'm a snake.
You remind me I am hysterical.
You remind me of sleepless nights.
You remind me of my love.
My love.
Which first rendered you absent.
Kept you in a jail,
And starved you,
Fear.
You died,
While all else grew.
And I am a sleeping giant.
Filled with miles of dreams.
I am so loved,
And in love.
So you are now. Absent.
Fear.

Night

There is night in your eyes, Midnight strolls, and distant lights.

fall&i

I believe in beautiful things,
I recognize them,
always appearing,
somewhere less than fragrant,
molding floors,
slipping into patterns of palm trees,
burying my brain in tropical woe is me mourning,
but this morning?
it was a bright morning,
a bright morning,
I spent cradling the leaf which landed on your arm,
and it remains,
gold as ever.
I want to kiss it,
I want to kiss you,
and it's quiet now,
now that all those puppets were silenced,
now that all my strings have been cut.
I'm alone,
in my head,
it's just me now.
in my bed,
holding you like a child holds a pile of leaves,
ready to pounce,
I want you to be all over me.
I want you to be the reason I crave fall,
for forever.
Yes, that's a long time,
but there are miles of you,
miles and miles of you,
I must find answers for,
answers for blushing kisses,
and fragile gazes,
I don't forget them at all.
In fact they lay on my ceiling,
I instantly projected them there,
upon noticing,
I was sitting in the middle of a moment called love.
I painted a picture,
and I can't get rid of it.
there are colors,
gleaming.
I wish you could see how dark I've been.
Because this moves me to tears.
And those tears are blue,
and I am feeling all this,
this happiness,
this fear of loss,
this heart, now beating.
I know I've tried deeply,
to forget the odd of the seasons,
for some reason,
while deeply ruined,
I reached for you,
maybe it was your eyes,
never strange,
not from mine.
maybe it was because
we wept once,
for one another,
before we even touched.
I heard silence in static,
found confusion in my routinely devoured love,
while you gave me hope,
the fog of past,
rallied its droplets, and
drenched my hands,
in gasoline,
I never wanted you to be there when the fire broke out,
when the match lit.
I fractured branches,
charcoaled trust,
splintered precious things,
I know that,
I see them at my feet,
before I sleep.
And it's morning,
So early.
And you're here,
rising above all that dust and decay,
you're a beautiful moment happening,
in a beautiful setting,
nothing but gold peaking through the shades,
lacing your outline,
growing in my mind,
framed by the slits of my eyes.
I want you to know,
I see you now.
something I won't lose,
I won't lose again.
I don't even want to blink.
but it's early,
so early,
with the scent of coffee in the air.
You're sleeping.
here.
You hate coffee.
Sleeping,
yes,
I need to be sleeping,
so I close my eyes,
but I can't keep them there,
I don't think dreaming even knows
how to construct this
safety.
No, not even dreams can construct safety
without illusions.
I'm awake.
I'm awake
and
I want to be.

READERS!

Hello readers, browsers, or anyone in between, this week I'm doing something new, and I really dig it. I'm putting some wonderful writers from my town up on my blog. I personally grow as a writer when I hear something, or read something of someone elses. It's a truly wonderful thing to encourage and to support! So read up! I should have a few more coming in soon! Also, if you feel so inspired after reading some of these poets words, send me some of your thoughts! Some of your poems or anything else! Tell your friends, it's a great thing to see & share!
much love friends,
-Olivia

I saw a child,
wandering.
She had sand
caked in her fluffy dress.
She picked up daisies,
and removed petals,
not knowing
in 10 years,
she'd be asking those petals
if he loved her,
or loved her not.
But for now,
the only man
she would love
was her father,
he sat on a bench
at the edge of a cliff,
thinking in the colors of fear,
he thought red,
he thought black,
he thought gray.
He thought about how stupid games were,
and why he ever thought a daisy meant shit.

Garden

I lit a candle,
and set it in my garden.
I watched the ladybugs worship their new found light.
They grew to the size of tomatoes,
And forgot about the dark.
They sang love songs to the birds,
longing for the day they would soon fly into the sun.

In the ocean

I followed the map
that you left on my nightstand,
you said you wanted to see me again,
all dressed up like a woman.
(not a girl)
I decided I'd wear a hat and carry only credit.
But there is this salt in the air,
And you don't understand what it does to me,
I smell the ocean,
and fear leaving,
I fear returning home,
the lonely ride home,
with thoughts of you,
and your busy life,
I'm sure all the people you see now,
sitting all around you,
they all love you like I do.
It's that unconditional kind,
I'm sure they know the freckles which lye in your eyes,
and I'm sure they've loved,
every thought they've had of you,
even the drifting day dreams
when you're not quite you,
and I'm shining gold.
and though the sand on my skin is removing old parts of me,
I wish they would stay.
Because I can't bare losing you again.
and again.
and again.
and this dust,
these pieces of me?
This is all I have left.
In the ocean.

there are pieces of me, waiting.

Emotional investment

They say that ocean tides move to the voice of the moon,
and the tide and I, we have that in common, because I live at night.
When the sun is just starting to fill up with gold,
I lay in the middle of my red room,
and fill my mouth with words
words I want to whisper in your ear,
no,
shout at you from a distance.
I want them to explode like grenades on your back,
I want the impact of me to leave you with post traumatic syndrome.
I want you to wake up 46 years from now,
and know you destroyed this, not me.
However,
I am a coward.
I lack the emotional funding to actually perform
in front of you,
like a loyal jester,
I would gladly be beheaded if I couldn't make you laugh,
and you would hear me say I love you
with the final slice of my thanksgiving ham of a head.
Everyone dies alone,
but I think when I die,
I'll take you with me.
Just like when its dark out,
and I have this uncertainty sprouting in the hairs on my neck.
When I feel like someones watching me that shouldn't be,
I pretend you're near.
Because somehow, no matter how far away you are,
you keep saving me.
I want to spend days creating with you,
making sunsets richer
because we are in fact the color which so inspired the heavens to part.
I was there when it happened,
were you?
When I was once a flower,
guarding a snake hole,
I was so beautiful, blossoming white gardenia.
I stood a limbs length above
any bird,
and any wolf.
I was a fine scented meal,
with a nasty after taste.
You couldn't hear me then,
but I loved you,
and when the blue jay we hated
plucked me from my safe perch,
to make her nest,
I gave my body to the Earth in hopes
you would find me inspirational,
you would celebrate my life for the rest of yours.
I wanted you to know,
I could be selfless.
You grew right next to me,
beautiful and bright.
But this world chose me.
Chose for me to suffer,
as you innocently stood by,
my roots became a memorial,
and you watched the baby birds hatch
in my warmth,
I saw your translucent stem weep.
photosynthesized tears,
colorful and tempting-
You were always
so obviously better than any other vine of jade I had seen.
I wanted to tie you around and around the sky,
so the world could see just how twisted our imaginations were.
I want to see shapes,
not just picture them,
I want you to be in charge of all my skies.
complex, powerful, sexual designs.
But we are no longer flowers,
we are man and woman,
similar only by flesh,
still tangled by the touch, the taste, of love.
But I remember you,
You've mourned me once before.
But this time,
you're cruel.
like a man.
And we look into the same sky,
colored blue by the hysterical breakdowns
of broken hearted sailors,
throwing themselves into the mercy of the sea.
No one gets out alive,
But before you get out,
you'll feel more alive than ever before.
I know,
I know I broke your heart.
But once it's been broken,
you'll feel more alive than ever before.
My sky is blue,
and so is yours.
So I know there are plenty of things in this world to sulk about,
but I've loved you.
I've loved.
at all.
(But if only you knew,
baby,
if only you knew.)
If I could capture the sunrise I felt in my soul
the morning I first woke to your touch,
I would never see darkness,
I would never need the darkness again.

The elbows (Fragile, like a shadow in hell)

Please lend me your love,
lend it to me, in potent pouches of ounces,
So that I may count out my dosage
And learn to inhale with a french twitch.
Lend it to me like you want it back- never,
and you're loving me like you only want mine.
My love, Your love.
Seems to be the only equation I can picture
as I spell out pictures,
because I cannot use these hands to contaminate a portrait of a prettier thing.
my love of us is so intense,
intense, yeah, like camping.
Out in the woods,
We laid in mud,
because we wanted to feel criminal,
we wanted to feel as dirty as our minds made us feel.
Just so we could feel the sun cake something on our skin
besides fire, beside the cancer, besides our god-like tans.
We want to wear our desires stamped on our chests,
like a scarlet letter, branding us,
we want our love to be poetic,
so even the trees can translate the echoey canyons of it.
So throughout time,
we forget time,
and for once,
maybe birthdays wouldn't be so dull.
To know you, another year,
would be just as beautiful as the eye of a sparrow, when the Iris reflects sun.
And there we stand,
holding one another up,
baked like love birds in the oven,
cracked, hard, and dry,
the mold of muddy plaster
fills my mouth, and invades my tongue.
I want to be dirty.
Not just sexual,
no, no, no.
I want to be covered in mud,
baked in the sun,
and cocooned within a mud mask.
If it means standing with you,
in a museum,
people will frame us,
Like Mona Lisa,
but with less deceit and more desire,
I want to be Mona Lisas secret twin sister,
Give you everything she can't,
I am the sexy one, I am the intelligent one, and I do want to love you.
I won't just smile and say,
"Paint me this way."
The more muscles in the mouth,
the better they are for smiling after we kiss,
If you don't love me after this,
(after this catacomb of dirt and water
pieces of the ground,
keeping us still
my eyes in yours.)
at least my skin will look good.
I tilt one hip,
and the mold cracks.
Suddenly we are standing outside of our shells,
shells we created,
because we thought we could love each other always,
because we didn't care if we grew old.
We are too busy soaking in the moment,
the moments,
Lava coated, lightening storms,
pacified by nothing,
intensified by a single stolen kiss.
I should know better by now-
love finds me always,
in the stillest of days,
and fingers my soul,
until love materializes
with flowers blossoming in blood,
bees buzzing about breast size and landscaping.
crash.
A realization, realized entirely in the glass parts of my spine.
I am a midnight window
in a world full of angry cats.
I kept trying to let them sleep,
but god did they cry.
and sometimes, I let their burdens stay perched until they die.
I don't need anything,
Because I am a fucking superhero,
Because I know how it is to love,
Because I feel fear, and fear feeling.
I have survived this world for 18 years!
Because I have lost everything,
and to find ANYTHING is everything.
But I have spent 19 years breathing
I have spent 18 years walking,
And 17 years talking,
But ask my elbows,
if they know how I ended up,
lying on my back.
body, suffocated by a storm of sheets,
body, removing itself,
mind, nowhere, and everywhere.
kissing you, like I've never been hurt,
Like I've never skinned the face of my fleshy peel.
Like my funny bone hasn't cried,
I love you like I can't even love myself.
And I won't let the tragedy
of a few severed nerves stand in my way.
When you see them,
Ask the elbows if they've ever felt a fall
(wishful, like a shadow in hell)
(beautiful, like a shadow in hell)
(fragile, like a shadow in hell)


Quite like the fall of love (miracle of all miracles, like a shadow in hell)

Quickly,
before a man tells you the infinity of women,
let me try and sound my drums the loudest,
let me beat this into your hand,
so you forever have a scar to frame your face with.
Not the ugly scars you spend caking powder upon,
but the beautiful ones, shaped something like-
sunflowers, texas, hearts, or lightening bolts.
I am an organic wanderer,
farming up ideas of the people,
people quieter than me,
People who have been taught to never speak, unless spoken to.
The same traditions I thought died with my great-grandparents generation,
but a genocide that still, very much exists.
I am the voice for those remaining so near to mute-hood,
they can't even recognize their own ideas,
especially after they've been dipped in ink, and capitalized.
People say "hey man, it's a tough world out there."
Cliches, like "roll with the punches." Or
"Keep on trucking."
Strands of words, interpreted by the simplest of men.
Causing the most complicated to question the simplicity of life.
And we buy into it, us women, we buy their purses,
we buy their shirts, with clever lines printed across our breasts,
because we think it makes us revolutionaries,
when in fact, we become the walking billboard for a world of fashion,
designed by men.
If we can sum up our lives in one philosophical fortune cookie,
then aren't we finished here?
Isn't our work done?
in response to ideas being murdered and raped,
girls tell me media is their muse,
with muted MTV in the background,
Lady gaga spreading her legs in a music video,
singing about freedoms we all had the chance to display first,
even before she copied Madonna,
before pointed bras were back in style.
All of these repeat offenders,
they tell ME, I am wrong.
They ask me questions starting in egotistical slurs,
ending with question marks, hoping I'll interpret their mind fucks
as silly, simple questions.
How dare you forget, NO one is smarter than me.
Have you ever seen the sunset on the glass of an ocean?
I am the woman standing beneath the sea,
capturing the colors, transforming them into words,
so you can hear about the way the sun looks,
while you sit upon mountain tops.
Ignoring the news, fires started by pure laziness,
by the flick of a cellular ember into a forrest
of dry brains, just waiting to be ignited.
And when that fire comes,
they run to us, like tortured, misguided ants,
asking for all the answers.
I have a purple ego,
mellow, yet still it exists.
WOMEN,
I beg of you,
PLEASE give me a reason
to feel like I shouldn't have an ego dripped in lace?
You stand around,
breast in hands,
butt in air,
taking money for sex,
trading looks for souls.
Arguing about how many things you can fit within your holes.
Where is the purpose driven woman?
Where did she go?
The women set on being far more intelligent
than any man they ever wrote about in the bible.
Because in the bible,
ladies, we were nothing but whorish burdens.
And yet, you look to the God who cast you away,
into years of suffering,
menstruation,
the pain of being devirginized,
child birth,
we are the ones who can, and will be raped.
Yet we fall to our knees and say "Thy will be done."
And yes, we are so close to being done,
I am waiting for your skin to burn,
so I can flip you within your tanning bed pan.
none of your flat, drawn out hair twirls,
and sexy curves can be undone.
So the rest of us,
become so ashamed of the rest of you,
we can't help but run.
Run from generalization,
Because if there is something I hate,
it is the acceptance of my fate.
I am woman,
woman stays home,
woman cleans gun,
woman gives birth,
woman shoots self.
When asked about starvation,
you respond with
"Oh no, haven't done that in years."
and cast away microphones within your eerie blush.
And sure, I do not speak of all of you,
the rest of you are poets,
stuck on the inspiration of marijuana,
with this fake ass hippie mind-set,
you speak of "energy" and "flow".
stuck on the migraine keeping you from speaking your mind.
Did you ever once think,
it may be your mind that is keeping you from surpassing the migraine?
Do you ever feel afraid?
What about the mothers of this world?
Drenching our daughters in every shade of pink,
We start off as blank canvas,
and if that's the case,
then PLEASE, cast every mother of every daughter into a fire.
We teach them how to primp,
how to be prim and proper,
how to take care of men.
This is NOT how women should stand.
Un-united, catty, two faced, bitches.
If you can be best described as a dog,
then where have you let your life wander?
I am not the woman you fuck and forget,
I am the wet dream you refuse to wake from.
Because in the heat of my passion,
I will question everything within you,
until you are forced to come to terms with the universe.
I am a universal symbol.
I do not rhyme with money,
I do not taste like honey.
I am the big fish, eating the bear at the bottom of the pond.
The more you realize,
I am powerful,
the more we will have in common.

Belly of the whale

I only wish you could see how perfect I look naked these days,
Glistening in the candle light, tanned by the blush of sex.
Here we still stand,
300 feet apart,
remembering exactly
what it means to hold one another again.
I can feel your nervous pull,
while it drenches a fire within
with kerosine and 11 bottles of rum.
I know you remember what it's like to taste this tender flesh.
It leaks champagne sweat, and you imagine yourself,
drunk off my disposable liquids.
I see how you covet my breasts
and insist on misunderstanding
my laughs of good nature,
as laughs of romance and fearful longing.
You create bitter bites along my spine,
and connect the dots,
until you read what you've been longing to read for years.
"I've moved on."
And in this bitter flash of reality,
spelled across my shoulder bones,
you shudder to think that I can exist without you.
No, I am no longer stuck within the belly of your whale.
I don't mourn our ghosts, dancing across the numbers
painted in pink laying humbly in front of my home.
No,
you have slept so many summers away from me,
I hardly remember just what it was I loved about you.
Because as we stand here,
300 feet apart,
you can't even make me smile.
You so desperately try,
to look into my eyes, and avoid the arrogance I leak.
I know I am the upper hand,
and this is something you'll never grace upon my cheek,
ever again.
300 feet away,
I stand by a man, I once watched
trace spiderwebs through my heart and soul,
binding them so tight, I swear I could never be released,
from the pitiful, and foul skeleton locks,
only, and once,
carelessly unlocked by the hand of your gloved arm.
You reached into me,
and planted the seed of insecurity,
and the waves of self loathing came in long steady tsunamis,
until I located that part within,
and tricked her into taking her old and miserable life with her.
To the floor of the ocean, to treetops, and mountain peaks.
I watched her drown, fall, and disappear into banks of pure snow.
and now you have no schizophrenic minions of mine,
You're left wondering, who is left to mourn the old you,
and now that, she, the insecurity, fades away into a swift, suicidal explosion.
how will you ever return to unlock the best parts of me?

bad news

I don't like bracing myself for bouts of terrible information.
Bad news,
bad news,
bad news,
Fuck, it's everywhere.
It drips off the noses of everyone,
it's laying on my bed,
it's flying in the sky,
it's glowing red,followed by green.
It's handsome, and it's smiling at me.
It's fragile and decaying on my front porch.
It's making me blush
so hard that I've forgotten about complexion.
It's burning down my forrest.
bad news.