No more promises to go to bed earlier
No more making up meaning for the mess on the floor,
No more pages all across my desk.
No more of the big clothes to hide what I don't have.
No more burying myself in those goals I made.
It's all just piling up under me,
Pushing me up toward the sun,
And the longer I wait, the more I think it'll go away.
But really, the longer I wait,
The more it gets worse.
"Would you like a receipt?" asked Travis. The customer didn't want a receipt, and she left with her iced latte right as the sun was setting outside of the shop window. It was nine o'clock, midsummer. Travis got ready to end his day.
The lights in each of the doll houses are off.
I, a giant, wander insignificant
Among the grains of sand.
When at last I reach the sea,
I let it take me,
Dirt and grime and grease
Jerry looks out peacefully at his friend Marky drowning again. He’s in the water. The first time he was out there, it was when his mom got sick for good, and he stopped seeing his shrink.
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