the table was dark, except for the light from nowhere. the kind that doesn't let you sleep. the room was nothing. not there. some distant eternity fertile with our grief. thoughts. scrabble tiles soaked in drugs. the road was open. wet thighs covered in beckoning. we had to keep going. there was no alternative.
we were so small. we just didn't know it yet.
time passed. in scratches of pencil and stabs of sun. we pretended not to know that we were dying. faster than ever.
we sped away. and went nowhere. pinwheels at the mercy of the wind. spinning.
the road was bright. drowning in the ambitious delusion of summer. all soft breezes of flesh and youth's sweetest poisons. we were sure we were blind. we didn't understand the difference. the distance was inside of us. a relentless junkie. determined to score another high.
we saw the stairs. going down. going up. a dubious coincidence. a bitter delirium of gravity. scattered sand and stale bread in useless epiphanies.
we were always lost. we just didn't know how much yet.
Tuesday
9/15/2015 12:30:00 AM
| Life Poems |