Waking up in new zip codes
Don’t me a wanderer,
It makes me think harder
About the things,
I carried to this new place.
A bruised heart, few pains, a rugged past,
Buried in an appealing dark.
Here and now, I
Put twinkling lights
On my own caged shades.
Who did you think built her character?
That I’m inking down,
Certainly,
Some old stories,
Written in rotten books.
Unquestionably, no.
My story begins with you,
And ends with your departure.
I wonder,
Why even I’m inking this
Even when my blood is enough
Moving grief to my organs
Capable of giving chills down
The spine.
Trying to be a cool writer,
Or just begging aesthetically.
Slamming doors,
Since my teens
So, I can quaff beer in peace
And howl in the twinkling nights.
Here I end the torment,
And makes you free.
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