I live in a city where everyone wants to be someone other than themselves. Sad really. I lived here once. Much younger then. Unfinished business is why I returned again. Or so I thought.
My dream. Now shifted. Replaced with a purpose. One I run headlong into every day. I wonder if anyone thinks of Amy?
As I pace my tiny apartment, jacket still on. Beanie in place. Incense burning. Dry meat rots the space. Ears plugged. Don’t wanna hear the neighbors race. It’s enough that I have to smell your plate. I wonder if anyone thinks of Amy? I spent a few hours with her present today. Finding no watch in her past tonight. I wonder if anyone thinks of Amy?
Big theater. Too many seats. Maybe nine filled. Two hours and twenty minutes of winks, cusses, music and pain. Love and drugs. A constant rain. Perhaps a 27 year doc would have been a bit too long. We’ll never know. I wonder if anyone thinks of Amy?