You exude the vibrations
of one who has forgotten
his Name.
Your life is an excerpt from the Train Wreck Revolution.
The clanking of Bottles
in my handmade turquoise bag.
What odd things we carry in life.
What odd things we forget.
Your new friends call you Whore. I chuckle at how you flaunt yourself, but love you all the same. We are bound by the roads once passed in deference and immitation.
Your messages fill my Inbox
And all I can think is
Where has my evening gone?
There was a prophecy
Long before our day
and it said:
I would meet this moment
and Slowly
Fade Away.
Your sobriety is striking. We are creatures of distraction.
