there is an enigma about the city that walks with me in the catacombs of alleyways and parking lots that reminds me of a deliciously lonely time in my life, makes me dirty, makes my skin like sand, makes me eyes falls, my heart close.
i long for deep nights and dark highways, and the promise of nothing over the horizon- but this is not new.
no newer or nearer than my liar's heart-
and if you even guess for a moment measured against the heartbeat of a hummingbird that i am lying- then it's true.
ironic, but so it goes.
liars are thieves, too.
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