I rap my knuckles upon a closed door.
I hear a voice that seems like broken glass upon barefoot.
I drive pass a white horse with no rider.
‘Does it ever end?’ my one and long time friend.
She speaks in a whisper…
‘I am beginning to wonder that myself.’
Skin raw and filled with excess debris.
Fingers bent and calloused.
As one, I ask, ‘do you see me?’
So this is where we lay.
Open to the chaos of black new days.
I could grow older but then maybe not.
I asked, my long time friend…
‘does this ever end?’