(via youarelost) riding fixed gear bicycles in space.
I miss those Saturdays
before sex and cigarettes
or the selfish serendipity
from knowing you are
everything you ever
told yourself
to be.
Before sultry complications
or kindled accidents
There was an image of a family,
a contented, semi-factual,
version of myself.
His epitaph reads
“someday, maybe, never mind”