Bold texture, innards feasting
on an empty mixture
of this, that, and the other,
and whatever else that feels
like sticking to my shoes.

Can’t conceal your fear, nor mine,
of being left far behind
in the blood dust and crude crust
plaguing our teeth
and all that **** underneath.

Oh, what is this?
I don’t even want to know;
you say you’re alone
and I say I am too,
but who was it that first blew
air onto the other?
and who was it that first said
don’t even bother?

Bold eyes staring into these cold skies,
ice on the sheets chilling our blood raw,
freezing to the point where we can’t even fall.

We’re so raw,

and you’re so wrong, and so am I,
and I’m so right, and so are you,

and answers don’t even matter
when you can’t remember
the question you wanted to ask,
like the future and the past,
and this ******* present
wondering where it all went
when you had it in your hand;
come up with another plan
to make up for yesterday,
you bold clever man,
and compensate for what you’ve wronged;
could have said it in your sleep
and shrugged the thought away
like a broken microwave.

Wait, there’s always time
to **** up and shut up and build up
until there’s nothing left,
until there’s anything but it all,
until we’re so **** raw,
arms out but we’ll never fall.

Stop and explode before our hearts implode;
yeah, it’s a mess, but I digress,
such regrets, like a hole,
why aren’t we whole? why so ******* dull?
and we were just on a roll, it seems, such deceives;
juxtapositional dreams aren’t so rare
when you’ve misplaced the world
and we stop to care; where did it go?
oh, we were once so bold, long ago,
when our shoes were so clean,
and dreams were easier to believe.

Such heavy weights straining anticipated dates,
with dysfunction swallowing eternal junction,
the shadow people bait us into nevermore
and then they seal the door.