Litkicks Message Board Archive

me: suitcase

Posted to Poetry




some days are days that stay the same as the ones that came before them.
but, some days start, and you just know that it isn't right,
and you wouldn't die happy, to die this day.

and so like a careful-card-tower-constructed pieces of the figments of our fractal selves fall, and
pile onto the floor, where we search through them. Trying to find the faces of friends that still remind us of ourselves. Trying to find face value, and turning turmoil this, into worth, that excels our own vehicular minds into the oblivion of tomorrow, with a new set of stickers on our luggage.

some days are days that remind us of what's really out there.
and all it takes is to open eyes. inside.