recreational exhaustion

like eating air / like drinking gin with nothing else in

that's exactly what it's like
heavyness at the corners
not falling
just dragging
pulling me down drop by drop
tick by tick
but hey, no worries
it's just for fun

looks like broken glass to me

it's okay if this makes no sense
reads like giberish
i don't know either
it just sounds nicer this way.

in the moonlight under the stars

everyone is looking for something to keep them alive
the lucky ones have it already on the inside

for the rest of us, we have to find someone with a bit of the extra; to share to steal, to take, to keep (us alive)

we're all too small to talk to god

just when i am so utterly unconvinced, he pulls out that shit and i'm in love all over again with that fellow who lives in my head who i met those several year ago in the car on a pilgrimage home, sun hot in my eyes with the green hills stretching forever, even farther than the road can ever think of going. the brash words and suggestions of a pogo to five, tongue in cheek except when it slips and he actually means it, tugging and pulling those strings to get the sound to come out of someone else's mouth just right.

this is shlep's etiquette

tiredness only skin deep
but that's deep enough

everything wrapped in cottonwool
and fluffy
instead of comforting
isolating