It grew in the matter of days.
Out of control vines
a strangle hold
a choke hold
autopilot.
Flight with turbulence-
dips and dives into ground
lost over the Atlantic
found in the Winter.
chasing-
not a hard chase-
but I won’t let you go
even as the plane passes by overhead and I’m crashing down below.
maybe you’re crashing too-
maybe the sea will break my fall.
we don’t have to eat at Chicks
we can meet at Cane’s down the street
don’t give up the chase
lets meet up and get something to eat.
but I’ll go alone-
it’s not the end of the world my friends
I’ll shake it off and bury it-
but here I won’t pretend.
Make believe on the eve I’ve seen your eyes
on my wrist
and they’ll tell it all
that this world is ours.
Buried-
the shovel won’t go to far
the Earth won’t let it
just rest quietly in a grave for one.
