We empty an entire can of gold spray paint onto each other. We want to feel rich. Shine like birds caught in the afterglow of fireworks. Something else happens all the time. So we watch the seasons change. We cross the bridge barefoot in the rain until our throats become museums. Museums of gumball trinkets swelling. We want to feel clean. To understand the foundations of sadness beginning with the needs of children. Children who pout the beautiful out of every single day.
var linkwithin_site_id = 823747;