Standing up straight
but like falling through door
after door after open
cellar door,
bodega cashier
men who know me only
as the sad and lonely two
AM bacon egg cheese
two bud light
guy who seems off
but leaves a tip,
this trip through new york
can't be more than delirium
wrapped in tin foil
and forgotten dreamscapes.
Where are the mountain vistas.
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 8:39 PM UTC
Standing up straight
but like falling through door
after door after open
cellar door,
bodega cashier
men who know me only
as the sad and lonely two
AM bacon egg cheese
two bud light
guy who seems off
but leaves a tip,
this trip through new york
can't be more than delirium
wrapped in tin foil
and forgotten dreamscapes.
Where are the mountain vistas.
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