Monday 1/28/2019 11:35:00 PM

time limps on broken feet. we run. but still are unable to keep pace. the wind pulls at our backs. fastening its weights. momentum moves us forward. still we stagnate. on the whisper of hope that sickens every breath.

there's a penny in the road. but we don't bend down to pick it up. instead we leave it for someone else. imaginging a stranger's path that follows our own. i drown in a panic of humanity. everytime we touch.

the cold insists as we make our progress. remembering in pencil marks and dog eared pages. we've been here so often. yet still, we forget. the strike of surrender. as it thunders through our skin.

we scrape the sky. our thoughts like chisels. carving words from the heavy silence.

i was there. i do recall. though it's distant now. i wouldn't go back. even if i could. it was a toxic paradise. when poison was the only nourishment l i could accept.

we'll always be strangers. regardless of how close we are.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2024. All Rights Reserved.