anymore

No rest for the wicked
should I be ashamed
in my bleeding
heart stench?
Loose change
guides the static
even when the
song reminds
of transference.
We dance anyway
with memories
in our hips;
god damn
the scents
of foreign days
halfway to home.
The words that you dance:
you're so alone.
Only a few drops left
before you give in.
So much sway
in the turquoise of the day.
Play your script,
there's no need to repent
in the disco
of the perceived
amber lamps.
It's been ten minutes
should I go in?
Ha!
I can't save you
from anything.
Get ready
it's everlastingly
Fucked.
The post onslaught
(that is);
of Knowing
you Barely Exist.
you forget so easy
red jean dreams
everything. changes.
you are not You,
anymore.