sip me sideways
on a cloudy afternoon,
that is only good for watching sports.
sober rooting,
silent cheering,
neck hurting,
it's okay.
we are all rotting.
away.
edited the morning into dust,
after bad service at brunch.
are these people my friends,
or just people I have known a long time?
omnipotency has its headaches.
later we least expect love.
chamomile and chaos.
but definitely not love.
find me feeling rusty.
as far as poetry goes.
to the horizon.
know one fucking knows.
and so I wait.
boots and blue.
sunglasses and thoughts of you.