Tuesday 3/13/2018 12:51:00 AM

the distance yawned. it never tires. only we do. the sun scoffed. the cold is ours alone. memory a long walk into the wind. there is no beginning. no finish. just moments that fall down upon us. as random as raindrops. until we are drenched.

the storms persist. in both heat and cold. we run to stay ahead, but always get caught in them.

we were arrogant. that was our power. unafraid of the train as it barrelled down. we were young. just as everyone is. when they are struck. some recover. most do not.

it's always bright. that's the appeal. after so much time in the dark. to see at last. all those small things. you had always hoped were there.

time is a luxury of the foolish and the youthful. it can't be saved. it can't be spent. it's only meant to be wasted. and that's exactly what we did.

we pulled on those stitches. we tugged on those zippers. we tore everything open any way we could. and marvelled at the blood.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2021. All Rights Reserved.