Too Much :written by Brian M Smith
There has to be some utterance of this night worth speaking of. My sordid social situation must not go unsaid. Without borrowing time we find our way out again and again. Hitting all sides of a twirling evening, I spread myself too thin. Unique in fashion our standards fall first. Guttural treacherous tunes, fill the empty spaces we create. Under cover of life our death finds time to wait. Faced with choices no one would make. The speed breaks necks, only if you lose your feet. Pool together some time, for only you to keep. Shake the heavy hand that holds your heartache. Borrow a breath and make room on your chest. It's here and someone let it in. The room is squeezing and smells different than it once was. Running low, in walking distance, of just too much.
















