the calm of the season:
familiar, yet unsettling.
We exist on the same rock,
dig our nails deep into the canvas
for the same crumbs,
sail along the same stormy sea,
drift through the same starry sky,
smell the same peeling paint on rainy nights,
and live through the same visceral silence.
We are battle-weary travelers,
shattered & tattered,
and tired of staring out of the train’s window
at the stretching miles of the desert’s wilderness.
We close our eyes,
and each of us
stares at a different moon.
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