Wednesday 6/11/2014 12:16:00 AM

the distance has its way of swallowing everything. making us small. all these places have their intoxicating panic. the addictive hysteria of lost.

too far is not enough.

the devil draws the sign posts. the traveller decides the map.

all these places. like countless bee stings and the broken metaphors of recurring strangers. it's a penny in the well. a wish well spent.

the years ignore us. we are not there. nor ever were. shadows hitchhiking on the whims of the sun.

the path finds us. sick with gravity. and more than willing to fall.

the places find us. as places must. the color in the drug. the demon behind the desk. checks his calculations. we always forget how cold it was. wearing those graves.

we are always consequences. never reasons.

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