(stall on the old blood)

My brain is a crack on the everlasting kiss. the moment missed in perfection. that beautiful fault of shaking fingertips. scared kids. hapless hearts too old for their own good and screaming out of the body worned by want and wishing for the miracle skin to hold a little longer. a little closer. a little more than the next...

Broke through the hangover this evening (hours and hours and hours after the fucking fact and now i might as well be drunk be the time is cold and strange enough to keep me wrapped in cigarettes and simmering beer) found friends. half strangers. folks that made me wish i wasn't born in the fucking right time (still holding haggard breath).

And what?

I was happy. i am. even crackled this morning.

Confused this evening and slippery.

Remembering why it was i stole the moniker of the rock and roll killing machine.