In a City of Vacant Spaces

A Pensive:
Do you know how the skyline falls and folds between pages of prose you wrote? Well that's how the pressure is contained within manuscripts and notepads of scribble my thoughts spilled out onto. I couldn't ever be ashamed of saying nothing, when nothing was all there was to say. How could anything be so right and hit you so hard? I was walking through a time warped year smoking cigarettes in open spaces. I was an accurate arrow bursting through walls and tearing through nameless places. There was a time when we would question constitution and never cave in to resiliant arms pointing accusing fingers. There was a time when we would tip the bottle and tear the labels and talk about fighting the fires inside us. There was a time when we were standing and stable and the wires of sound were beating out music. There was a time when we were over the worst but the better years were casting shadows and moving to it.