Dream of road trips in snow and restaurant bills I cannot pay. I’ve started to think too much about times that have passed, months of joy, a time when my skin buzzed, I know my skin knows how to buzz but I don’t know how to ask it to. There’s a lever somewhere, there’s a door to open, it’s an itch somewhere deep in me like an addiction but I cannot find the drug to scratch it. The morning is cool now, fall is coming, death is coming, you’re trying to reach the door before it closes for good, this panic runs 40 years deep and you have yet to find a solution.
But the sun is shining still, the weekend is long. The answer is hiding here somewhere, and you’re still determined to find it. 40 years of questions.
You just keep walking.
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