My past a mixed brew grilled by time
scarred by an ardor with an expiry date
curdling bone liver heart
dry as refrigerated omellete
a breakfast for one, and later
tea stale in stab of youtube replays
because we are bleeding, leaving
mocked by reality which once glued
our hours together, and now a story
absolutely pulp fiction, hard boiled
to a numb indifference, although
I...
Continue reading...