slowly sink into charismatic nights.
Masking the breath of another love
with cheap cans of malt liquor.
Staring into the trash can of a heart
and reaching in
only to find pictures of a past time.
You set the box of ancient photographs
on the back porch
and watch them fly.
Fly into the sunset.
Swimming like a thousand leaves.
A thousand lonely suicides
being given up to god's grace.
The centerfuge spins faster and faster.
Seperating the unwanted from the pure.
Ostracizing the rest onto a private island
of lonliness and turmoil.
Emotions spill over
A cup on a kitchen counter
Orange juice and angst.
And then it all stops.
The wheels and cogs cease to spin.
And all that is left
just fades to grey.