there you sit, legs intertwined with cheap playground equipment
coughing up your lungs and your pride
they pool around you, scratching at the dirt
making their way lower and lower
you stare at the same sky dripping with liquor
sleepy souls still in their packages, just how you like them to be
from inside their homes made of vietnamese plastic
some dream of lovers with knuckles the colour of bone
others nightmare of their abusive fathers
others of streetlight eyes watching them, under a microscope
some even walk, under lids, their coffee stained eyes stay alert
then there's you, with your ego ***** and broken, dreaming of your old generic laughs, of the hugs in which you could feel hands clawing at your back so hard you almost wish their fingers would intertwine with your veins
your eyes on the night sky holding all the diamonds in the world like a jewelry store case
running full circles in your mind
you try to let your veins run dry
if only it were that easy