The yellowed page
of the books and books
I'd forgotten that I had
These paperbacks
they know their age
they smell of weight
and time that's resting warm
The opened box beside
the endless box parade
that haunts my house
Is fit to split with photographs
that tell the wanderlust of years
smashed on to years
When all this actual life played out
Where the hell on Earth was I?
I rack my brains but it won't come
Through water damaged bloodshot eyes
The fleeting triumphs, brazen lies
All seem to mingle into one
I read your name under words
in your elegant hand
you probably don't mean now
I fold the letter
and think of a million
and one things
that I could have done different
When all this actual life played out
Where the hell on Earth was I?
I rack my brains but it won't come
Through water damaged bloodshot eyes
The fleeting triumphs, brazen lies
All seem to mingle into one
One gigantic fairy tale
Of friends I haven't seen in years
Drinking 'til the daylight hurts
You seem friendly who are you?
That's a lot of wine
that we got through
We've made playtime look like work.
Please just take these photos
from my hands
