The Departed

Can’t walk away, won’t wave it off, don’t try to breath to take it all
So you know the path to let it out
No tears fall fast to point you south
Normally, go where the rivers flow
But water cascades off of crimson slopes
This time
Cliff’s edge used as beginning of sentence for behind the time repentance
Too late
Add your blood to the pot of the dreamer’s non-place on this earth

Published by Kevin J

I think I write to try to explain moments that I don't truly understand. That's why I have a tendency to be wordy. The closer I am to minimalism, the better off I am. I also do it to keep records of what I was thinking at certain periods of time, so some kind of footsteps are left showing me how I got here. Looking back, it seems inevitable that I am where I am now; couldn't have been anywhere else. I don't have any goals for the future, except for trying to enjoy it. I'm the opposite of most people I know; I no longer want to know what is coming up next. I just want to create the road and ride, or not create it and ride anyway.

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