Then key in the numbers
one by one
tell all your secrets
and
soon
there'll be none.
This is the engine stall,
out
if gas is the
end and I fall.
Thirty two times thirty two
and every second
I drop
I drop closer
and closer
to you.
Hit the ground running.
All is opportunity where
the hustler is
importuning me
one of us is seldom free
to turn a trick or turn
the other cheek
next week marks
another scar,
Life
so far
advanced
but with a backflip
we could have danced
with flowers in our hair.
Yesterday is somewhere
yet somehow can't be found,
at thirty two times thirty two.
I hit the ground
running.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 4:05 AM UTC
Then key in the numbers
one by one
tell all your secrets
and
soon
there'll be none.
This is the engine stall,
out
if gas is the
end and I fall.
Thirty two times thirty two
and every second
I drop
I drop closer
and closer
to you.
Hit the ground running.
All is opportunity where
the hustler is
importuning me
one of us is seldom free
to turn a trick or turn
the other cheek
next week marks
another scar,
Life
so far
advanced
but with a backflip
we could have danced
with flowers in our hair.
Yesterday is somewhere
yet somehow can't be found,
at thirty two times thirty two.
I hit the ground
running.
Request permission to use this poem