At once.3It was four hours until they found us,down the side of some hillunder the metal, under the fire.I was breathing, barely.I couldn't see you for smoke, a milliontrillion miles from me,adjacent, at once.2The deer died with its eyes open.Wide open like the moon.Like it knew. Because it did.I'd say the last thing to gothrough its head was fear,but you and I both knewit was us.1I begged you to slow down.I pleaded. 'The road aheadis winding. Is sodden.Is rarely travelled.'I meant it, literally.You smiled, whispered into my ear,'You're perfect.'And that was when we hit it.
Ode to KalundborgIt's the start that gets me.Sticks its nails in my side.Rakes them left.Rakes them right.Left. Right. Left. Right.Until all that is leftIs a hole, in my mind.It's the middle that gets me.Sticks its knife in my heart.Pushes in.Pulls it out.In. Out. In. Out.Until all that is leftIs a hole, on my part.It's the end that gets me.Sticks your note on my wall.You put it up.I tear it down.Up. Down. Up. Down.Until all that is leftIs
Give me your feetLife consumes meLike a ravenous raven doesa terrified worm.Help me make my own pathGive me your feetI'll stand on themfor you.I see music in shapes, colours.You see music in labels, tastes.But your songs taste of lemonslemons pressedinto my throatinto my noseinto my eyesuntil I bleed from placesI never thought I could bleed.The road ahead is twistedand you've stolen my eyesGive me your faceand I'll put it onfor you.I'm sorry I didn't writeI'm sorry I didn't callI'm sorry I'm never even here at all.I'm sorry for being so bad at thisI'm sorry for it working out this wayI'm sorry for what I didI'm sorry
I talked aboutIt was late.It was dark.Had a few drinks.I stopped the caron the hard shoulder.Opened the door.I couldn't see my handin front of my face.(Maybe the alcohol.Maybe the pain.Maybe the darkness.)Had a seat on the tarmacnext to the yellow dry grassand talked to my lover.She wasn't saying too much.I talked about my life and how it was shit.I talked about drinking and how it was the only thing saving me.I talked about the noose made of shirts I had yet to take out of the bathroom.I talked about how one day, I would escape the rat race.I talked about how we'd run awaysettle down in paradisestart a family of three no four no five childrenget into and outof debt.She wasn't saying too much.I stood up from the tarmac.I walked back over the the cargetting used to the dark.I saw it on the front bumpera small dent.I drove away againthe blood still wet on my back tyreas I left the vixen to rot.
Six wordsJust like that, my head fell.