by: Alex Wright
I poured my blood into the streets and guess expected them to give it back
Now I’m slightly anemic
Somehow drunk on irony
As the sunlight sits in secret shining in some other Southern city’s eyes
Still it’s expected,
I should rise to greet the day
So I’ll drink my coffee
Check the score of the Havoc game last night
As I clear my mind of dreams that drained my sleep way
Distant footsteps in the hallway growing louder
Making messes while everyone’s in bed
The avenue is stuck and stagnant
Still and silent
Like a Sunday morning
When only the faithful have found their way into their cars
Shaky street signs sway like dresses
Dancing in the darkness that they tend to reflect
Entrancing in the moment until I turn to go inside
To shave my face
Clean the house
Every spot on every floor
As I rid my room of the things that still smell like her
My Ultimate Warrior pillowcase I’d left at that house
Books by Carl Sagan now back upon my shelf
The longer I linger staring back
At days scattered through the states
The less hope I have in whatever fate the future holds
So I’ll bury the dead
I’ll let them rest
They deserve that much right now
For it won’t be long until they’re back to haunt these restless roads
ALEX WRIGHT CONTAINS MULTITUDES 