The teacher was in the front. "I don't like to buy the fancy cakes." This was said is a downtrodden voice. Muttering, a student commented, "I ate the baby from last year's cake."
When the student returned to his home, he found large locusts tearing apart his mattress. The student's mattress was for sleeping. These large locusts weren't going to take the thing that meant the most to him. But they did anyway.
The girl with the hard hat passed by. "No luck," she asserted. She left as the student stared into space, aghast.
THE HEADLIGHTS
I can see rain that I wish was not there
It floods the homes of the homeless and takes the life of the lifeless and hates the love of the loveless.
Yet it is material. Yet it is sentimental. Yet it is everything.
(shelter, subsistence, and emotions that fuel everything)
Water into Wine
Serrating my body,
Slicing the life from me,
My love remains.
It stares into the headlights as drops obscure its image in the windshield,
And you have left its meat decaying on the side of the road.
You only had one thing you could take from me.
Love, you get out and you help the love
Hurt
It cannot distinguish your teardrops from the natural, unprovoked raindrops from the sky,
Which will fall forever
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