WRITE WEEK #3

[Bodey]

it was a frame designed for the black-feathered fiends just soaring up
above me, like i'd been tethered to that jogging scene from forrest gump
RUNNINGGG, i finally stopped, glazed eyes blinking at horizons
dry as these rocks, i prayed to be drinking at a Hyatt
and that i was just dreaming in a dribble of spit, alone
like any other evening, and not on these windy roads
that dont seem to go anywhere except another corner
of which i've enjoyed many shares of regret, this fuckin torture
reeking these purple-brown-bruised memories in storage til it bleeds
it's been keeping me from lookin forward to the oranges and greens
gotta smoke through the cloudy parts if you wanna snort the bluer skies
so i did it with a mauiwowi heart and avoided sandstorm suicide