i have them wicked thoughts. you’re such an outlandish last ditch effort.
we’re all asking. for more. than this world is willing to hand over.
i find myself glimpsing at that broken clock deluded by you in steady interval.
what could this all mean while buying discounted paper towels.
walking back to a place where it all began.
with a boy and a girl lagging somewhere behind me.
he’s a remedial street philosopher, “like one day this will all be nonexistent.”
i’m secretly grateful. not to be that girl on that date.
i’m not sure how to get back to you.
so i sit vigilant with this sturdy table for familiar company. you’ll have to find me.
i want to be a somewhat truth. taking down some small taste of meaning and you.
both rise unexpectedly like warm bread in my mouth.
~ my loose thoughts. with a song resting below ~