The Place
The Place
There is a place.
A place in my heart that takes me to a world that is filled with all the things that ours is not.
It is where all the beautiful women I could never have feed me grapes, sing me to sleep and kiss me goodnight.
Where the ocean smells of rain and is returned to what it once was before man dipped in its oily hands to wash off their oily faces.
Where hangovers are a contained and controlled disease and are talked upon much like the Black Plague.
Where clocks have been outlawed and are only placed in the prison cells of rapist, murderers, and child molesters.
There is this place in my heart,
And it only exists through the words of this poem.
-But that doesn’t stop me from going there.
-Bryce Stoskopf
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