Issuu on Google+

Bad Time

It starts with a cough. Shivering, dragging knifes behind us, to remind us where we’ve been

Who’s the leader In the dual digest? You seem to do it best

My ideas have been embalmed like a Red dead leader.

I’m stale again in the public square.

And who’s the first to claim that they’ve maintained their mouth, with corners turning terrible?

Aw, that wide-framed wood and teeth. A clenched jaw judging where reality peaks. Embracing embers and licking lips The quiet comes off when the bandage splits

Bad Time