Today I am relentless desolation.

Today I will take up this glass and drink the pristine

liquid that fills you, all consoling demijohn.


Together you and I will eviscerate

this bleakness so that tomorrow

we can both continue on our paths.


Your former self empty, waiting

to be collected and sold by the woman that

lives under the bridge.


My skin to be scoured,

my hair to be combed, and my

clothes to be arranged neatly about my person.


Both of us indubitably playing our roles.

You riding along patiently in the black plastik.


Me, writing fervently into the night

Within each of us there remains a yearning.

And tomorrow,  after everything, something curious this way comes.


Can you forgive me for making you like me?

This image is the property of Michael Irvine. Obtained through Flickr.


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