I am 29, I am 19, I am 9. I am Before Time | Laura Marie Whelton

An appetite, fueled by elusive things.
The illusion of happiness, the pain it brings.
The midnight dancing on a lacquered floor
Last song beating, sweat like a tear.

The torn postcard feelings,
From a friend gone astray,
‘Never mind,

We will meet another day.’

The Lapis- Lazuli of a stranger’s eyes,
Beguiling, conniving, twisted inside.
Continuous walkways burning with rage
And tomorrow sweeps the ash of today.

A lost weekend, a fucked-up night
A losing of myself, to the pain inside.

The fierceness of love, emblems of truth,
Beats you, rapes you, corpsed and abused.
Smiles as empty as a supermarket aisle,
Embrace you with a dampened cardboard squeeze.
All the more to convince, it’s never quite what it seems.

Yet weakly I waver and stride alongside,
Images of the future, emergence of time.
Next wage, next time, next kiss, next hope-

less movement of the human race.