Last call express (or almost exactly 1 month ago)

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August 28, 2016 by Wayne.

smoke around the spires:
no poetry in the sticky heat
no chants ringing in shaking air
our words from borrowed pools
our flags on masts that won’t stay hard
locustcore and sludge
no words needed when we have shows
already speaking our stories
like:
four across
faster than the time i said hey there’s a kitten just rolling around outside the cafe haha i can’t look into your eyes

Old cards still hurt
The illusion, and what comes after the longing
The undercoat of nights on one way roads
Entries and overpasses
Smash cut to the now:

Back held straight, the hours trickle out. Hey siri, define regret. Every lover assuming, but how many just want to be held in love and short life. Pain into droll words on t-shirts already losing context and assumed humour in the packed closet. Here are the instructions. The assymetric dress and cape, the faux-brass and black chokers on girls who flinch away from fingers that seek to wrap around, the fire chokes in this cage. Too afraid to form full sentences and series of sentences lest the truth leak out. the truth being the emptiness is all there was, like an ice cube melting away from the hinted veins and crackling lattices into puddles leaking out the corner of the freezer door left open. you were the death and the wake. weren’t we supposd to go to coley??? no not you. didn’t we go to the beer bar didn’t i not say anyting when i shold have no not you that was befoer when i could juggle the end and the stylized beginning and not fall aprt intellecutalize everything after the fact it will be all right it wouldn’t have made a difference

so what next

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