Friendly Strangers

January 30, 2012
More by this author
Friendly Strangers,
In the middle of the night.
The stars spark the cigarette
That burns right through the sheets.
My lungs
My soul.

Tearing apart my ribcage
Bone by bone.
Each snap a pleasant dream.

The icy pond I fall.

Each drop of blood
Just another dream.
Reality close at hand
Above the tree tops I stand.

It’s the smoke crawling down my throat
Home in my chest.
But it’s alright.
We’re just some friendly strangers.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback