Now its years since your body went flat and even memories of that
are all think and dull, all gravel and glass. but who needs them
now -- displaced they're easily more safe -- the worst of it now: i
can't remember your face.
for a while, with the vertigo cured, we were alive -- we were pure.
the void took the shape of all that you were, but years take their
toll, and things get bent into shape... antiseptic and tired, i can't
remember your face.
you were supposed to grow old. reckless, unfrightened, and old,
you were supposed to grow old.
return. you were supposed to return.
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