Trespassing through the tall trees
thinking thoughts of the forgotten
memories that can't be mine
I wasn't there
I couldn't have been
she is dead to me now
how
memories armed with bartbs and claws
and hand grenades
waiting to go off
pins half way out
pins in limbo
everything reframed
same old shit seen through a different window
thank you for the memories
dark puddles reflecting street lights
the colour of our drinks
ink
dark liquid rippling
caressing the mind into coersion
again
slipping up the stairs ignoring the bewares
spraypainted onto the back of my retina
(by god?)
tripping down the short hall into (bed?)
It wasn't me I wasn't there
I swear
I would have ended up dead
like she's dead to me now
how
haunted in a gray forest
by prospects misspelled
construed
held tobgether by stringy melty cheese
and bunny fur
and blood.
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