Shit on the stage; what's another week going to hurt?
You have the Unlimited Weeks Plan, right?
Old wounds; new knives.
Only, this time, it's my choice of bandaid.
Strolling lowest Greenville; irony self-aware. 
Fashion is replicated seventies.
Technology and pollution are Bladerunner minus anti-gravity.
Reptilians gave it to us decades ago, but we're a selfish species.
Oil and tires it is!
Drivers now optional.
Straight to the grave, choking on capitalism's toxic breath.
It's no wonder our mayor switched to the Republican party after reelection; City Hall is on the corner of Young & Wood.
Laugh.
I make the mistake of wandering through Trader Joe's with a head full of Crop; Culture Club calls a flag on my memories.
I saw Boy George on television in the first grade, I think. 
He was the most peculiar being I'd known in my young life outside of Sesame Street or Sleestacks.
Mom said there were men who wanted to be women.
Mind-blown. How did that even work?
The State of Texas spent the next twenty years (through Sith lessons of preachers, teachers, & higher appointment) reminding me those thoughts were immoral. 
Immorality should define as robbing individual souls of their best possible existence. 
Preachers die,
Books burn,
Rumors silence,
It's our turn.
God's pissed,
Because they said,
Never flinched,
Never read,
Didn't need to 
Saw the lies,
The unseen gift,
Don't act surprised,
When candles flicker,
Fade to black,
Another gone,
I won't get back.
And there it is.
My mind scrolled like a classic Star Wars crawl, and that's what it said.
Brass in one and a bird in the other, I salute the fascist IT department spying from the parking lot tower.
No worries; you can't buy this stuff on your side of the river.
A enjoyed a sequel.
Fate's not tempted by your's truly as often as I require.
Not unlike the mosquito who defies the open window.
The illusion of freedom; alive and well in 2026.
Same as it was in 1973.
I can't officially vouch for anything prior.