The synapses that glow
are the juices that flow
like a streetlamp
quivering
in the dark
suffocated by repetition
scorning at the thought of burning out
like a firecracker
avalanching
across the sky
bombing the canopy
continuing to trail after the burst
like a marriage
fostering
stemming feelings of
love at first sight
discovering your downs don’t outweigh her ups
like a bird
piloting
effortlessly rivaling
at odds with gravity
wings aren’t made for walking
The synapses that glow
are the juices that flow
Let me drown in them.
The clouds’ cigarette smoke
Adorning the scenery
in a gradient blanket
A misty smother
hydrating the lungs
sinking into the skin
A most refreshing wakeup.
Today, I took the train. It reminded me of a time I probably would have enjoyed living in.