y'all become conversations in my head
and constellations in my night sky,
i see your faces etched in stars moving
away from me at a hundred, million light
years a second, and when I blink,
you're gone, and only the supernova of my
memory tells me anything has ever happened.
another sip of wine and I can't remember
what it was like to hate the dawn so much
that it would burn all my bridges,
break my heart or leave me dreaming
of the last night on earth we spent
together before the world ended
I have no discretions anymore,
can't even tell myself when to say no
to the voices in my head, or when
to shut the fuck up. I chain smoke
my suicides to death and dream
of the next time I fall into the same trap
my heart has layed for me a thousand
times over and that I will fall into
a thousand times over again.
I can smell you on a Tuesday morning
when I haven't quite woken up from that last
dream we shared, but the lingering odor of your aura
hangs about my bedside table making
curly-ques in the lamp light well past dawn.
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2 comments:
i fixed your double-post screw up, by the way. you drunk.
"folow your heart, but use your head" How the @$^@*#%&!@#!*$ are we all supposed to do that anyway?
Live. Live every day with all senses. Thanks for writing some of them out.
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