One-hundred and Ninety: A Song God Is Singing For Someone Else

There are sounds but This is silence. Photographs vibrate with regret
as I sing along to a song God is singing for someone else. I’ve got
seven white hairs and each one is scrawled with the tiny cursive
letters of history. I am going to post you some memories so that
you can hurt like this. I’m diving into midnight like it’s champagne.
Pop me and I’ll just swell again. Let’s go star-catching tomorrow.
Give me back those books that I wrote and you stole. Stroke your
hair one hundred times and everything will be alright. Shut up!
My weak wrists are tired of fighting because I write too much.
Did he say goodbye? It was like hearing thunder on a sunny day.
All I’m left with is the echo of my life. And God knows that it is sweet.


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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