Depends

I blink to forget them,

Across the street,

Thinking,

It’s a long road to restore.

 

I’ve never liked carbon copies

Or people,

Persistently colorless.

So I drink.

To cushion our distance

And preserve the feeling

That I must know more.

 

Sets me up like the idiot

When my steady

Comes in a can or bottle

And my face

Leaks its own color

For nothing other than lapses.

I’d still rather be me

Than those fucks.

 

But when I keep looking at it

Day after day

In the flip of the grey

It seems too relative

And I start believing that

I haven’t ever really known anything at all.