Slavic Eyes

My ideas wake me, all of them
Especially the ones about you, snaking through my fibers, folding into my memories,
Like chapters in an ongoing narrative
Won’t this end?
Won’t this ever end?
The smell of sober cigarettes and summer sweat lingers
Stuck in a Sunday afternoon, this unbridled union, this false church,
I worshipped you once
I could fall to my knees again
I am a storm. I am a storyteller.
I am a liar and I sleep deeply every night.
My father said “Consuming alcohol prevents stress”
As we watched the alternative police cars
Red, white, and pale blue,
Circle our Southside neighborhood
Line our streets, hover our lives,
Like an All American bastion between good and evil
I’ve always been more interested in the latter
Drawn to darkness, magnetic madness,
Desperate despair.
When I get caught, consumed, buried in this moment with you
The misery becomes ecstacy
Only a year but it feels nostalgic
It rained all night last night
You must have heard it too

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