I'm stuck in the middle of
a rainstorm somewhere out
here. I'm actually stuck.
These clouds came and poured
concrete around my off-white,
boney ankles. I'll ride down
these open roads someday
soon. I'll become the new
American billionaire. My
new acquaintances will reach
their financial ruins in the month
of November. That's the "truest
truth" I've ever heard. It's also
true that one day I'll live in a
hospital ward with the softest grass.
They will play 90's hip-hop and
ask me questions about my health.
Every room will be an empty
tomb for all the men who are
homesick. The wind will sweep
in a melody too poignant for those
bailing on life itself. This has to do
with how the river flows and the "about
us" section on business's websites.
