There are long roads approaching
at break neck speeds
white knuckles and the spittle of time
spreading out cold despondent over there
S l o w i n g down, speeding up
Sp lut ter ing!!!
dying on me man!

In her bed of sea grass and vomit
And in the horror of the real
Whole sagging, grey gestures
grapple with the nightmare of youth
that defecates in every corner,

Ignore that horror show of us aching in places
where we as younger cats played
sliding razors in deep rivers of crimson
across the gaunt, forever changing
faces of time and melancholia in her madness

And I kiss away your tears
where winter encountered your cheeks
with my sincere heart