time

we travel
empty roads, beer-drunk,
squashing bluebirds,
waiting to lie down
among the trees, I am no longer vertical
close the garage, engine running
or was it, heads in ovens today
I can never remember certain details
and the others—
scream at me during the night,
pour out of my pores, and I wake
drenched in sweat

there are so many rules today
nonsense and such,
and I simply, no longer
give a fuck

 

© Grace Black
grace/no explanations

4 thoughts on “time

  1. I can remember feeling like this in my younger years when too much alcohol took its revenge. But I think there is more to your words than that.
    Anna :o]

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