I've started hitting the brakes When I come to green lights Even the things that seem certain I hesitate to trust I slam on the gas When the light turns red I've always been self-destructive So what's one more ticket I'll add it to the pile Of problems to ignore
Her words Paint memories First in broad Blurry Strokes, Then in tiny Brutal details, That speak To harms Incurred In silence. My words Fall, Crack, And scatter. “I wish I had known”
Do you hear the old gods singing? Through marble bones And filtered sunlight Their semblance, Cold and undying Painstakingly chiseled And forced into placidity. Yet still they sing.
the screen the keyboard the small room the closed door locked door closed window blinders keeping the sun away a chair an empty stomach protesting against tequila more tequila