Times photo

Times photo First shot you're in the stomach. The ultimate invasion sits upon the blind tails of a used clock. The winding roads and cement sidewalk plead from the usual birds of sunrise. The second shot is your birth, capturing the fake and bold who have never understood why they exist but by the grand arrival of the only one who has no unedited side reason for being there. Earth doesn't stop, and the dead still get buried. Cold, in pain, and cut from comfort. The third shot is your 1st birthday, the only reason to get ed up. At an offsprings occasion, why not throw gas on a fire? Why not sink into the fun? Chew the fat with those you need not see again. Host to those who can't afford to give but only receive. The last and final shot is when you fall the end happens slowly, the only shot that doesn't become a blur where you can ignore the heart of the empty pit you once return to.