#onehour
watching everyone take off their head phones,
just to hear me, just to hear me.
on the corner of, crest and woodview,
you couldn't see me, but i was near you.
screaming at the top, of both of my lungs,
not much air left, it wouldn't matter.
feeling like that bell's, finally been rung,
no more laughter, only children's sadness.
there's a court date coming,
there's subpoenas in the mail,
we can all just ignore it,
but as soon as we will fail.
there's a court date coming,
there's subpoenas in the mail,
this is something we should go to,
or this world cannot prevail.
all my scars are from familiar places,
give it a name, and i will listen.
shootin' stars, ask for me to wish them,
i couldn't do it, to my discredit.
i'll exchange a book for your Walkman,
happy birthday, happy birthday.
from afar you will see smiling faces,
no more hiding, now you get it.
december second at three forty two am, with 12 seconds...1988
Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 10:52 PM UTC
Six-feet between me and
forty-six vignettes of adventurous times.
The slick, shiny gloss used to put a sheen
on moments made for smiling.
Now, ancient beaches and haunting deserts,
where my footprints are planted,
are a dream I fight to remember
after the alarm sounds.
Aches for lost chances of overpriced
airport snacks
and shared glances with strangers
seem to slowly construct "fun's" obituary
on the bored corners of my mind.
But I wait, six-feet away,
to relive it all anyway.
Six-feet between me and some one-hour photos.
Six-feet between me and a graveyard of freedoms.
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 11:15 PM UTC