Orchids and Donuts.

She likes orchids, exotic and heady orchids and is of the opinion that roses are tacky.

My opinion of roses is far more offensive, it often offends young lovers of those who enjoy giving and receiving a bouquet of half-dead roses wrapped in a plastic, choked with a string of metal, waiting to die, is ready to die with a red — sometimes white, sometimes pink — ribbon tied to its neck and hides away the lethal metal wire who’s ready to knife the half-dead roses, and an uninspiring greeting card as its final prayer, and everything in the bouquet is imitating the nervous voices of : i love you, and i guess this is how everyone says it in the most complex way, well from the television!

So roses would have to die. I would have to die for saying roses would have to die.

But young lovers, oh my young lovers you should live on and water more flowers and sing them more songs and play them more guitars and pianos.

Read them the stories of everyone’s lives and clap your hands for every part that makes you laugh! Move your feet and dance and giggle for every part that needs dancing.

For there is warmth under the sun, and it turns tiny drops of water into a big flower and the big flower speaks the language of a human, and i’ve seen some flowers dancing and hopping in the street and they sing and whistle because they have so much joy in their life!

For there is an honest flesh under your chest, just beneath the white ribs.

For i am honest about donuts, that they are round, cheap and uninspiring but lovely donuts.