So horrible at communication.
This I know.
Yet, I found it the safest way to go.
The trappings of loving another…
Nothing but a graying destiny for a languishing mind.
My state of hibernation…
A junkyard car.
Scrap metal missing banner days.
Scratched, dented and out of gas.
Living in the accident of someone last gasp.
My only sense of security…
A junkyard dog ambivalent to my past.
On flat tires I take no prisoners.
Propped up on cinder-blocks.
There are no chance for encounters.