it’s a myth

god bless summer my friend
girls in short skirts and tank tops
lonely streets in heat
mixed drinks and exotic dances
god bless these dim lights
and distorted sounds of truth
the rhythm of bass and drums drives me
but damn these highs and lows
too many notes and not enough lines
cell phones youtube
sex whoopie pies and death
it all ties together somehow

i’m no better than you he said laughing
as the words fell
unapologetically from his lips
well fuck i said
who needs the headache
i have my cats and computers
conquered with an empty house
and too tired to clean
romance is for novels and movies
we’re real men we fuck fear
and beat down the heart
we carry guns and chainsaws
our hands lined and sun burnt

we don’t look back much anymore
forward and down
that’s the only way
stubborn and afraid
like dying soldiers
we wait for the next fight
and then we move on or else
the night will forever
creep up and consume us
with morbid fascination
and anxiety born of absence
what is this bitter mistress
that holds attention from afar
sometimes it comes but mostly it goes
and words are wind they say
now just pleasantries formalities
with handheld memories on a dying battery
that fades shortly after the sun sets
these walls have seen better days my friend
too much fire charred and fading
and these lines were originally written
in the shape of a dagger
tilted downwards
I ask you
can you still write
in the dark


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