Carry on luggage that is worth more than my prostituted body. The hair on my arm sits modest and black. Like a cat I had when I was eight. Wheels roll against linoleum, droning out cell phone conversations and my silent screams. Starbucks. McDonald's. Braving a new direction. Cutting a new life. Surrounded by the same exact places. Why can't Abraham pull the trigger? FullOfLifeAndEnergy. DancingLikeNoOneIsWatching. Only to get my my skull crushed by someone better. The sirens sing sweet and I am hitting the rocks in a collision of enormity.
Close my eyes. dead.
Dead. my eyes are closed.
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