waiting for the war to end

looking for friends

and only finding

the trace elements

of fictional open ends

searching for a source of meaning

while trying to mainline  the belief

that better days are going to come

at home, or that which once was

lays memories of shadows

counting cold days until

there self righteous suicide

and who am i?

echoing in my head

with the energy of bombs

the songs and poetry

drifted with the drifter

when he asked me for coins or cash

I didn’t have spare change to give

so instead i offered my soul

and then it did not glow

so it was stowed to fester

where we are all so alike

and so alone

a land of islands and bridges

some have toll’s and hole’s

or are completely impassible

by ways of nature or nurture

helpless in how I can’t explain

that all expectations are inane

finding out the hard way

its safe to say goodbye

and it is not safe to cry

the only soulution

is survive