every day is an anniversary of something.

unreliable people will never be
something they are not.

put everything in a bag and throw it out your 4th story window.

let it fly with the pigeons
and
get eaten by the rats
along with the poisoned trees
and sidewalks
in
a bullshit city
once romantic.

mail it to sisters
who
don't even
know
you exist.

they'll burn it.
they probably burn everything.
just so they don't have to
live with the fact
that
they are related
to
heartless beings.

august 8th is a beautiful day.
when it isn't today.