Deleting spam on my birthday

Just one week with out an explosion
I know we could get there
Call it a goal, a means to an end
Whatever it takes
Something tells me momentum
Is all we’re lacking

A furry hump
Two bags of old clothes
A weather App predicting the rain
We’re wrong all the time
Even in real time
Our constant adjustments
How could we keep track
Of all the poetry
Like saving every exhale in a jar
Never stops

I want to end things better
Want to see
The light when it occurs
Want is the romance
Of fighting children
Love is losing

Love is to forget