just
        going
                    through
a don’t
                              want to
  write any
                     more
  of
        that
                     scotch
left?

easy to be amusing
that you think so
whilst I struggle in my head
with every ****** word

i left on a tuesday because mondays felt too cinematic.
threw a bag in the backseat —  
socks, notebook, polaroid of no one
and drove until the road forgot how to spell my name.
some towns didn’t even have exits,
just rusted signs and dust thick enough to bury a prayer.

she said she needed to be
free
he said from what
she said from now on    ..











l

poetry’s alright
but I’d rather
have a bike     ..

she said you’ve never
understood
me? I didn’t know what she was
talking about    ..

want to break this lap
top and just pick up a pen
and start writing again
ah, those were the days  ..