The day dies just like any other. Quiet for the most part, colorful around the edges. The wheels do seem to spin. Every new turn kicking up gravel. Every fresh circle another mad alarm. I do what little I do. I nearly did my part.
Yes I blew all these kisses. Yes again my claims went bust. The detail may shift and scramble, but the story stays the same. Must I stand atop this soap box? Must we go over this all again? I take a few steps and the years blur by. I take my time, just as good as blind.
The air is warm though the breeze seems cool. The night grows dark though everywhere are lights. I scrape a knuckle, I crack my skull, and all my flesh just peals away. The shadows seep and stick, everything burning and bright. I smell powder, I smell blood. The rough pavement whispers its good-byes. The day dies, and I just get up and walk away.
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