SHOOTING PAINS // ON THE THRONE OF TEN THOUSAND BAGELS (E A D G B E)
Shooting pains.
In perpetuum.
Last night.
No sleep.
In memorandum.
Of loss.
And living.
In humility.
Rivers surge.
Waves crash.
Last night.
Your friends.
Were here.
Sometimes I look for your reflection in the mirror to check if you’re really there. Satisfied, I try not to wake you as I tiptoe down the hall.
In humility rivers surge, waves crash. Last night your friends were here.
We’re all tired at the moment. Beady eyes a sign of the times.
On the throne of ten thousand bagels. I hold a cradle for the loneliest hearts.
The path unravels as you sleep. You wake up. It is just long as it needs to be.
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