the stem of your throat wilts and i can see your thoughts spinning in doomed circles, smoking wreckages burning in your temples

there is no pot of gold waiting for us at the end of the rainbow

just pain, and pain, and pain

and i know 
you don't want that 

and you know
i don't want that

but guess what 
we don't get a choice

this is the world we were born to
ragged edges and all, 
tenuous people and persnickety voices in the backs of our heads

and while i hate to say it like this, 
we've got to run with what we've got 

drive until the rubber on our tires burns out 
open the windows until the sun dies out and then light a candle and wait for it to burn
cry our grievances to the blurred cut-outs of human connections

give up the ghost

you and me 
we were built to break 
cc we were born from blood and sweat and hurt

time to act like it 

and your hands stutter on the keyboard
i can see the helter-skelter jerk of your fingers
in the little message at the bottom of the screen, 
[cc] is typing... 

do we ever stop,
do you think 

will we ever reach a point where one of us 
finally gives in 
pushes cotton cloth into the empty spaces within us 
knowing it'll burn in the fires of our creaking ribcages
and knowing that everything, everything is a temporary fix

we are a temporary fix

and my dear, 
we're not running this race for the pot of gold, 
we're not running it for the rainbow on the run 

we're just running it for each other

and that'll have to be enough. 

The End

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