What happened to the times
where we stayed up all night
chain smoking and drinking beer
just kicking back
talking to the swamps
about everything.
How it feels
to reminisce
about past times
coming through the glass
projecting images
frozen in time
bodies in still posed
the way a finger sliding over my chest
as i killed the lights
while it snowed heavy
in the living room
full of kids
with no where better to be.
The music still echos down the hall
now pattered with the feet of small animals
who have become conversation artists
and make the rainy days never lonely.
A bicycle that carries me farther then
a father ever did
when i was too fucked up.
Hanging on lamp posts
spotting for cops
while demons escape me
in my afternoon adventures
up the broken steps
to a temple where no one remembers
your name
and its okay that way.
Because when i go back down
i wont ever come back
and the treasure will curse me
like a pocket watch
that knew when you were gonna die.
and you regretted it
every day the sun burned
your leather face
through thick trees and humid breathes
exhaling copper flavored gasps
of used up air.
The bench makes a home for hours
of blood given to forget how it felt
and why you cant stop running
even if it doesnt get you anywhere.
its okay
because the records
plays on and on
and the old faces wont ever go away
but one day that old promise kept by
an unfriendly watch
will make you cash in the chips
and pay the tab
for things you can never take back.
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