all the blind miles. that never see us. all the deaf roads that fail to hear. the chalky metaphors of curious thieves. as the world turns its corners. and the math forgets.
all the far away places that fester within us.
pale bridges. narrow to the clench of the wind. and the howl of gravity's madness.
spent by the path. indebted to the distance.
the weight of the miles. soft stones cut against the hard edges. burnt skin sticky with blood. the road sings its songs. all we can do is listen.
too far to have gone. not far enough to have come.
Post a Comment