It's Only Life

Casual wounds bandaged, sutured, and clean float through the sands of time.

Memories locked up front pockets bulge among the living, partially dead.

Eulogies ring out in the waterfalls of songs as singular proof.

Universal the unique picture, fleet, retreating as that's life rings on repeat.

Bourbon days, chasing the nights that overflow in championless pleas for a mulligan as the hole nine approaches the past lives tally up as the bill approaches.

While most are still boasting tomorrow's gain the salve that slathers only induces the infection rate.

Mumbled words stutter as the steak knives fall from the backs, and bites hard in trails that are littered with oceans of tears.

Circles around the block where the better halves come up for air.

What are we escaping?

The night presses on, and our casual wounds cry out in our sleep.