"she's the edge between the sacred and profane"

it's too early for a sedative, not close enough to tune everything out. i miss you and the world in the back window, yes it's only for the day but they're warming me up to goodbye. right now the midwest is green undergrowth, blue sky, goldenrod undertones. there's one hell of an artist out here. everybody's begging to witness him but they never view the work, i think that's the worst sin. it's all flying past me as we follow straight gray lines leading to everything and nothing. lane departure and damn potholes. i swear we'll say that our backs ache, digging our own graves. to feel the sun on my skin for another afternoon, if you were next to me just one more night, it would all be worth it. the sign reads st paul but we don't take the exit. could you listen to the songs i love even if i'm this far away? swear we'll only be apart in distance. i suppose i convinced myself i'm in love again, but every time it gets easier to live with it. hold on to the good dreams and spit out the nightmares. a voice can make your hair stand on end or sing you to sleep, isn't that beautiful? it's gonna work out, there's no way but through. the future is clay waiting for eager hands. we're still on the road.

signing off,

midwestsmoker