onemorepanic

Gave way into secure moments amongst the hills. Refuged moments against a lake.
Fired off clips on an old dirt road but hit nothing noteworthy. Fired back. Took bullets to self.
Hit nothing. Noted.
The deft and the wounded, finding footsteps between them. Walk single file.
Then hit jackpots before you die.
Cue up the ambulance. Queue the morning. Queue the night. Cue tomorrow.
Fired back at self. Hit something. Noted.

Gave way to nothing to understand how falling further felt.
I remember now what the ground feels like again.
Cue the morning. Remember dirt. Stare down bruises.
Admire yesterdays persistence to show up now.
Remembering that moment when gravity prevailed,
and to wound gave me pride.
skin grafts into rock stars, peel the morning back into a sentinel rememberance.
A continous refractory period living down the storm.
The blood on our clothing, the dignity.
The blood on the floor, the story.
Understand now.
That the noted should live on misinterpreted.
That giant in the room has always been there.
And he's my best friend.