its 6:30 in the morning and I am still alone Thinking of anchors tied to my eyelids, forcing them to stay. trying to hide the brass knuckles i find strapped to my hands when i wake up. Readying myself for another night of bruised thoughts Maybe this is too long to think about the same…
Something about what?
Now we push the pennies around the floor. Each one making you laugh A flash in time, lost now to something I still can’t see. You scream and laugh and tell me not to read it, but I do. In that parking lot, I thought about before 4:00. I cover the last of it with…