Hold Me Now

Stone washes a shore in the middle of twilight.

Events from seasons long past that still whisper on the abandoned houses that idle in protest.

Soft crackles of tunes that reverberate only on eastward winds, and heart strings now corroded.

Covers long blown caught on the high tree top like popped balloons fragmented among the drift.

Folding of notes in the front of shirt pockets flip open as the memory that remains forgets my name.

Faces that have long tried, long cried, and long fermented in the ancient lore peer along the shoreline, houses, and battered scapes that long held a homely quality but remains a hellish purgatoric resemblance to final failures that were given to children, and locked away unable to escape the weight that surrounds, and drive us further into obscurity.

Bank Tellers judge, and the faithless swoon to our demise.

Cackling to our spoils.

Fleeting like vapor, coffee aromatics, and the way western society was won.

Gathering the annual bouquet of abstract thought.

We lay to rest ourselves that have been buried long before we are gone.

Goodbye my inner child.

Forfeit what you know now.

Breathe it in.

Exhale, and be still now.