I'm still wishing for threes
But these days aren't getting any easier.
I'm still shaking at the knees
And doubting everything I believed
About them.
About myself.
Take your hand and run it across the shelves
Disheveled are the levels
Flashing lights,
Ringing bells.
Argument and resolution
Still produce scar tissue
And the issue is a matter of memory.
I was stacking chips and counting cards,
But under neon signs glowing
And without even knowing,
The silence came faster than death.
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