Aromas of Life

Rain covers the skin, sidewalks and the inner man forty feet from the edge of a Tuesday

Awoken by reverberations of the night before the questions flood in the core memory bank too fast to make withdrawals.

Comfort waves and quilts drift in the pools of star struck levels of repetition.

The heart is too eager to love and too new to know pretty faces come with carving knives.

Hot rain, and regional grey tone film the city blocks alone against the flow of time.

Aroma therapy sets in as the doctor isn't in.

Absence of the familiar teeth, the strong men that bully the inner man as they passed on in their sleep

Sleep attacks as the great beyond came with a swift embrace, leaving a smile and embalmed it's traces of evidence leaving them on jars on the shelf.

Old sprains hyper-extending our limbs of the heart warms to the touch of pavement. 

I gave up on all my sick thoughts of dying long before the grave could taste my name.

The gravity that sank all ships to the bottom of all glasses, and bottles the ships we kept in them dwindles along the drifting tides of time that we spent paralyzed in the fine shades of 'fine'.

Carrying along the strings of somber tunes that provide momentary sparks as the road leads up hill.

Blood loss clotted, and the post traumatic diorama we kept of the years litter the streets.

Colorful trinkets that complete the set and the changes taken place painted like ancient stone masks scattered on the floors of where we have been.

Hearts, and arrows stick out of trees pinned together with worn Swiss cutlery. 

  Shedding of clothes of other men that disguised themselves as better versions of small town we.

Taking their time they take their seat on the curbs, enthusiasm cradles itself as the gravity ebs and flows.

Honoring where we have been respectfully as handshakes sing their goodbyes.

Hot rain, and the self quakes resonate as hope floats to the surfaces, and corners of our lips.

Hot takes fleet.

All of the greatest critics sleeping tongue tied, forever.

Honoring the handshakes of where we have been.

The drink dried up.

The slow walk home on sprain ankles ebbs, then flows.