Can’t say it makes sense. Light bars die, interrupt
My reading square white pages in an effort to look
Like the silent leather jacket in the corner and
The shoes that read faces in their laces. I argue
With you in my mind’s hot spaces, afraid of
Blood’s bleak coursing onward. You are as
The evening collapsing to cold gold. I
Must walk home, must unlock the
Door must check to go, attempt
Another twenty sentences
Before sleep dwindles.
Sorry I know
I go on.