Sunday, November 28, 2010

Run now. Mourn later.



Sometimes we are all ghosts and alone.
No feeling.

Sometimes we are the ghost bicycles.

But tonight.

I fucked it all up hard and you are in bed calling for me.

Remember Krazy Shack?

I think you are so much better than anything I could ever have loved or even be loved by.

Like the kayaks at Krazy Shack.

Like the beach at that cabin.

Like the time when we took off our shoes and threw them into the water for kicks...
Like then, when we kissed.

I am no longer afraid of your love.

And I will

ride

your ghost bicycle.

-Sid
xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Karma.

A cosmic Lady of Justice is beckoned.

Will it render a verdict against the accused.

Belittled and abused.

Bloodied but not broken.

Bullied into silence.

Arbitrary rules overshadow the careless breaking of promises made.

Promises never kept.

Truths visible beneath all your disguises.

Muffled pleas heard beneath your rubble.

Airtight. Sealed. Silent once more.

The ground shifts.

A weight lifted.

A breath.

Another breath.

Now.

Nothing to cushion the fall.

No prayers to be asked or answered.

No deity summoned for help.

One more breath.

Expelling relief and all their lies.

Breathe.