Drunk adulthood.

Strewn in a pile of ashes,
Ejected out of the pilot seat,
Drowned in a glass of liquid;
merging.
Emerging,
a hell lot of parachute-talk
for a man who is dyin.

We go. We go. We go places
and then stop time. Kiss and let it go.
We see. We sea. we see movies in old theaters
and we get bored.
We buy popcorn and an old bottle of rum
couple it with two cups of caffeine.
We drink. We smoke.
We drink. We smoke.

I sit in my parent’s house
on the old iron swing
the pale pillow smells of farts
and I hear creaking
of bones and doors.

Lying in a pool of blood,
anxiety has seeped into me
A deafening silence ensues
a trembling heart.

An another pool
glistening in the sun
comes to my mind,
Me and towels
bare-naked
sitting at the edge
staring at clinking glasses
with fancy liquids- like
crayons in my bag

Playing with imaginary friends
and clashing figurines at each other
We wrote stories
We never were scared
We just clashed and clasped
one figurine onto another.

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