Saturday, June 2, 2007

Keep the smells from fading

To the bitter end.
In the rain
Soaking
But not with water
Watching her drive away. I stood on a corner
Without an umbrella
No
With an umbrella
Our sandwiches getting soggy with our own tears.
There are no sandwiches.
There's sand in my shoes.
Not in my shoes. In my eyes.
That's what's making it so wet.

(Funerals are always best in the rain. Otherwise, you feel like an asshole with sweat dripping down your forehead. It's hard to wipe your eyes with your sleeve when most of it's already covered in sweat. And then, there are the armpits. Oh God, the armpits are the worst. But this isn't that type of funeral.)

So yeah. Life.
This show will be going on for a while, huh? I like it. No I don’t. That was a lie. And I know it was a lie.

Nothing is filling the void right now
I am tired
And bored
And I want my loved one.
Now.
This storm isn’t fucking around
It really wants to rain.
Damn.