The girl closes the door to the bathroom,
Embarrassed to be seen in
All her glory.

Holy, holy, holy Ginsburg says.
Holy is the soul, the skin
Even the seraphim.
I say Holy is in the shadows,
In intelligence—
In moxy.
Yet she has none
That’s why she’s with me.
Instead of taking one, shes talking shit
Pulling out her secret stash
Inbetween shags;

I don’t know why she needs to hide
Her compulsions
As she can plainly see
With her one good eye,
I am a train wreck myself.

Her desire to makes me wonder–
Where have all the good ones gone,
What has become of the whores in
This city of emeralds,
Do they even open their eyes at who their


Seize The Day Boys

They’re not that different from you, are they? Same haircuts. Full of hormones, just like you. Invincible, just like you. The world is their oyster. They believed they’re destined for great things, just like many of you, their eyes are full of hope, just like you. Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable? Because, you see gentlemen, these boys are now fertilizing daffodils. But if you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go on, lean in. Listen, you hear it? Carpe — Hear it? — Carpe, carpe diem, seize the day boys, make your lives extraordinary.

John Keating “Dead Poets Society”