the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Friday, October 2, 2015


Your gravity bomb teetered on the soft edge of my bed,
Shitty beer stuck to sifting thoughts
Bought forward on the pretense of penance.
These beating arteries of arbitrary depth
Brought on an honorary death to the clotting silence;
Whether from the shock or the clock, it was bound to go off.
Liquid crystals made a six, blood flowed swiftly to my tongue,
So I made my own luck, and struck the alarm so it sung:
From New York to Boston, Chicago and home
I dipped into the shadow and immersed in the drone.

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