noted, with love ¤¤¤

instalment one: drunk driving

Lucy, drive-

Embraced by reality's blanket -
Was it supposed to warm me not?
Atop carpack roof gardens,
I drown sober ants to remind myself
how temporal things are -
like clouds crumbling down
on tipsy scurrying pedestrians. 

Lucy, stop-

Amidst the liquid courage, 
the tire tracks reveal
a trail of forgotten, dead workers.
The car plunged forward,
onto a bouncy castle. 
One blink,
and you wake up hungover on 
reality's blanket.

Lucy, drive. Shut up and drive.
Goddamnit.