Sunday, September 13, 2015


this sound you make
like breaking glass
these walls you
pull tight around you
that turn to dust or
burst into flames and
the fact that who you are is me
midnight and sitting
in a room i don't recognize
driving in the emptiness
between two towns i don't know
in bed at some point and
my wife next to me crying
my hands finding each other
in the dim glow of the streetlights
and this idea of oceans
of escape or drowning
the money gone but the
age of salvation approaching
the possibility of hope
worth considering
and nothing more

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