Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Is this what it’s all comes down to?
Torn cardboard and broken wood
flooding concrete dreams when
it’s 70 degrees and sunny and all
is quiet, but your laugh is there.
Swirling around and around until
I have to dive straight into
The inside of your cheeks are like
pancakes and the trip down your
Slip-and-Slide trachea makes me
However, it is the end that hurts.
Floating in acidic bliss, just hoping
for it all to end.