from bed, beach foxes

stand inside the ring of sound and tell me without blinking where I can be found on rooftops slipping without a rope or a hand 

teetering to stay sane in this land of sheltered egos and backpack plans stealing a map from that worn out man with wrinkles set from questioning without sound doubt shriveled his face yet he still comes around to see what you are doing 

carry along this road without hope a desperate terrace lays outside this yolk walking the fields full of consciousness that you have been through to see your son or your brother’s family and cronies collect on cool fall days when he is willing to take and say the words you need to keep rolling through this cell that captures every situation you could detail in shitty pen ink that stops and goes 

mostly drawing circles and then you froze is it worth the time to pencil you in to sharpen this blade razor thin on the edge of your feet we meet. strip yourself tonight i need to think

she didn’t care if i laughed

it was a stupid joke i must admit if i stared straight faced she’d still replace the reaction i should have had or she thought should be there with a shrug and that cold pupil stare lifting my senses while deadening my lenses fogging my better self while continuing to engulf the whole rest of what we found on the shelf 

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