by on July 12, 2022 :: 0 comments

Standing in that kitchen
The cold tile glowing radiantly under the dying oven light
Late into the morning late into the evening
Leaning against the loose knobs of the cold stove top
Coming down from mushroom acid drunk trip holding a can of beer in my hand
feeling the open flesh under fingernails
Listening to you laugh and the sounds of your voices
echoing into the darkened walls of the old house I was waiting for the universe
To halt itself in momentary standstill to split into a billion known possibilities
to reach the end of its endless trek into the ever-sharpening void
Standing in that kitchen wanting to hold each of you forever screaming
into the abyss of timeless nothing-ness and shadow
Sitting here tonight alone under the foggy light of a winter moon
wishing it all had come true

editors note:

Wishing and wondering if we’ve got enough go to do it all again. – mh clay

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