Numbers are fallable

Turn a feeling in as if it were an rental film to be dropped off into a hollowed out box of family friendly romantic thriller comedy
leave it
we can’t revisit the camera angles
no looking back fondly for the sountracked song that played during the opening pan shots
bring the books back to the library shelves for those chapters are already thumbed through and bent into old pages
we’ve picked new words
words that are the only sentences we can utter
the shapes of letters to be forgotten
subtracted from the new math

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Process a maybe

Her eyes fish bowled as she finished her pint to the bottom,it was fitting as she stared through me so I just ordered another round because I knew what was coming to come of this.I looked into my drink,I knew the magic 8 ball bauble was not going to appear with answers so I drank accordingly
The jukebox wasn’t helping and neither was the number of rounds i was calling for
“So what is it then?
and sister I’m a poet was not going to even get a smile cracked here
I inhaled my pint then set it down smoothly and took my next sip of the drink as if I never even switched glasses keeping my mouth full so I didn’t have to speak so quick and awkwardly
You would think someone who ran his mouth so fucking much he could spit something out and end the exchange but this was not so easy in this moment
“There is everything and nothing to know except I let everyone down in the end and no not the cliche bullshit way just in constant wave of unbalance in my eyes saving the world or hellfire cooking
silent days of don’t touch me for it pains me inside next to the already broken something the guy everyone loves until they begin to see he’s a false witness bearer to himself this is no hero the same as American idle
the right lighting makes everyone kissable pay no attention to the man who can’t get out of bed in the morning mourning days of lost lusting in the idea of getting lost nonexistent to days like these you know i love you
and i love her and Bunny you know I loved you fuck off Morrisey lines
keeping mute to hope everyone would follow suit the sound triggers the chain to buckle more under more weight
boxing the pretty fighter away who can only lift a coffee cup
the kid was just weird the same kid is still weird but now great depressional expectations odd
picking the soundtrack of your funeral those eyes hamster weeks wheel of days waiting for Mr. Death
hero in the speech a freak in the sheets the sad guy in the song routine gets antique hurting owners of this type of almost limited edition faux plate that is just the idea of love
for unlovable monsters that grow in the closets that no one likes to go in”
I kept quiet sipped my pint and waited

Saturdays

it comes on quickly like the rush of a nervous smile
a shroud of feeling
its old and familiar
you could even call it by name but it would never do it the justice it deserves
its the premise of an old romance or a new days destruction
lurking in the shadows of the conscience waiting to pass through the weekend streetlights
through the tunnels of a heavy hearted chest clicking along the local route hitting every stop dragging it all the way down the line
transfer it to the overflowing street
swerving between pedestrians and sheeple
carrying it all the way
with it written on your face even though its already forgotten
until it shows itself once again