Wednesday, August 18, 2010

gats in the back

i remember


driving in his car
summer was beside me
windows were rolled down
my hair was growing
grown
gone

and he was asleep,
sickly
on the bedroom floor
huddled in warm materials

and i was escaping to run errands
and listen to this new music
that i had rambled inside my head

and their voices
were chants
that were never coming back
and i drove without melody
or even a simple thought

i drove like i was carrying a knife or a gun

the fearless one

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