in Instagram fashion,
while regret will never lie
to us, sticking to our ribs
like gum on the bottom
of a desk or dugout.
screaming songs
in traffic cars and microphones,
I hope you follow me down,
like a drowning xmas tree,
so pick a good playlist
and don't let me suffer.
pull the headphones back,
let them rest on my neck,
let me rest of them
and the Bob Dylan blaring,
because room temperature silence
helps me think and edit
and edit and think,
cutting down anxiety like scorched trees
in a fire backyard in California,
and burying their branches.
blue scarf and lesions,
eye to heart, wild for witnesses,
let's get tired and turn in for the night
just to dream of the devil,
and hopefully wake up
to new fears that won't last forever.