the awkward interaction
the brightly lit designated area
the fuzz behind my last cigarette drag
these and other instances between a thousand bad memories
conjuring up images of malnourishment, moon lit fields of struggling survivors
taking the ride, along this stretching road, I found the ride goes by faster in the shotgun side. uselessly awaiting that next dull destination.
You are not my friend
You are an accidental slip past strangers shaking hands
surly, slimy grip to you. This place is for failures. more and more arrive.
Im happy to depart with both eyes closed
I spread my arms wide to the approaching menace
I am not asleep