i stole a pen from the saloon because it took one of mine,
almost two but you rode on (pops and the count in your jockeys)
my scalpe fetched a drink on the open market
and then we danced
not as in a digital dream but then
i do remember one of those
your knees crawling across the carpet and your moving lips
seem to point it out to me:
the dance floor stands for two floors of abandoned property













Comments
--
"I've taken enough walks alone
to know how real nothing is."
~dystopian-dream-girl
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