In a slow embrace somewhere on the outskirts of nowhere, we smoke cigarettes wishing for war while remembering how simple things used to be back when there was only love. Love and Sunday afternoons and walks and talks and not much of anything else as the falling leaves above our heads acted as metaphors way beyond our understanding. Between those ageless breaths we take as we stand around pretending we’re not who we are, we glimpse our former selves walking hand in hand and it makes us smile, and it makes us cry. Who we used to be is still there, but how tricky it now is to claw back those layers. In those moments that ring out like the blast of a taxi as we dart across the road on our way back from town, how strange it seems to think that anything of what we know actually happened. Behind my eyelids, I glimpse strands of your hair on my pillow and you in white lingerie along with flecks of paint beneath my fingernails and beads of sweat dripping from your forehead onto my tongue. You always did taste so good. We could talk on the phone, and we could make promises, but talk is cheap, so instead, we cling to the flashing lights that disturb our sleep as we seek a meaning they will never know. You my lover and you my girl. You my muse and you my sweet. I took a step aside and let life pass me by, but now I’m back right where I belong. It’s a state of mind, and it’s a dream within a dream. It’s a vision that’s pure and absolute with no need for affirmation, because that’s what does so many of us in. That need for our actions to be justified and approved by the world at large. The more you look inside yourself and the deeper you step into the woods, the easier it is to be at one with who you wish to be. The more you exist as a version of who you really are, the brighter the lights of truth will shine. It doesn’t have to make sense, and it doesn’t need to be pretty, just as long as it’s raw and it comes from the heart. Leave the rest to chase their own tails. They won’t even notice you’re gone.