Sunday, November 27, 2016

breaking bottles and getting strung out on polaroids
you said all the words
but never spoke just to make noise

passed out in front of fresh fire logs
wetter than the toads and frogs
and I didn't think I'd sink but still

we drifted off like analog
a dying breed, a familiar fog
your mother said you must stay south
so I did without

No comments:

Post a Comment