resting in the grave
are the remains of all those
things
that ruined us
when we were young
and if they’re not there
they’re on their way
it doesn’t matter
how angry you are
it’s all impotent
pointless
speeding up
the bad ending
we’re all going toward
I keep a brass bowl of paperclips from a man that didn't want to even give all of it away but he had to because there was no use for anything like that anymore sometimes I stare at it and wonder if th
it's days like this with the sun blaring and the birds calling with mowers in the distance that I know I wasn't made for summer but I can't help feel the flickering neon lights of anticipation in the
There's a metal cup of coffee getting cold somewhere in a house where someone has forgotten that they even made it because the weight of living in this place and the amount of money owed has taken hol
