well good lord days are big
the stale 11 AM
the rattle of chatter all around
and
because
it
seems
my
autopilot is permanently disengaged
times daymarch
is
crumpled with creases like an old school report
and
just
as
hard
to read
again i crave drink
and
its
warm kissflood of soft strength
but
its
the
drinks of the 90s and the 00s i want
not
the
cold black limosine
booze
horribly
became
No comments:
Post a Comment