Notes From The Overground

Sickness & jazz strung out in North Beach, halo city not yet an angel
Vagrant moonlight cast about & searching for shotgun dynamo
Seeing old ladies with holes punched through their skin, falling flatter
Teeth struggling to be kept in begging for beggars & for liars
And unable to connect to the street scene, being heard & being down
Sipping cocktails alone colored over bloody & feeling dead to the bone
Adrift in the City Of Cold Shoulders, so much apathy like a constant
And strain in the way everyone believes in different Gods & different ways to celebrate loneliness
Convinced that the halfway house halfway point between knowing something & believing in it
Lays somewhere in the ends of your smile & the secret, sugary center of your hollow hole
Sliding up & down my sorrow leaving a smooth, slathered trail
A reminder that retro is cool again & being something isn’t as good as being there
And where were you the night your innocence died in $3 red wine served from a box
He poked around, dug down & dug deep into you, promising everything else but this would hurt
I remember that as the arch of my back in the booth gets lower & slower
Sadder that the walls remind me it’s so easy to cave in & the lights twinkle from lack thereof
The energy that moves you to stand up in a whispering bar & tell all of them the reasons
You’re sitting alone, you’re feeling alone & you’re feeling like somebody doesn’t care
If you’re even there or if there’s anything left outside for the inside to believe in
Waiting all night for something solid instead of the fog everlasting over a transparent bay
Earnest & jealous of the shore’s same place & its always immovable nature
All natural infirmities are cured through persistence & I’m told
Resistance to the way things are is what put us here anyway
© Adam Bresson

(1 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)

 Loading ...