perfectly painted
my pained reflection
noticing names
fanning old flames
in the garden of imperfections
Amongst the mold, old stories
and historic lines
my mind rolls back,
dirt floors
shacks
the wooden forms
that formed
the bristles
in the attacks
is it my name
or the other name
is my face in the same place
or is it smashed in again
your alleyway drunk
vagrant's demise
the bag of mystery
in the he must have been sad
for some reason
you know, don't you know
don't you quiet now, leaf-less, lifeless
lifeform, formless, before the storm,
raining non-stop,
soda laid over playbills fizzing into the gutter of the sunday mornings
of eternal nowheres
the last few bubbles
erupting and bursting
into the dank
drunk tank
darkness.
-------
In the void, cement tastes the same as rainbows
-------
What wasted words will I share with someone who won't want to remember me?
-------
...
-------
...and then?
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