there’s a familiarity in not knowing…

it’s a summer lemonade.

some thing that keeps us attached

to a world we never

planned to understand.

{ until a chance meeting today

i thought cyber security

was a safe word for rough sexting… }

we travel upside down

on a sandy ceiling,

skidding streaks into it’s dust.

drowning in the thinnest ocean


where light moves too fast to grip.

so we hide in it’s layers

knowing our color fades

without that extra coat.

we come back

every day,

to everyone else,

as the thrill of the hunt

brings us all closer to a cook.

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