06-13-2018, 05:11 PM
It always feels like sunday here.
That slow air so hot you can’t even think.
All the hotels are empty save for lost families
and cheating husbands.
We hide from la llorona, her horrific grieving
body grazing the night fed streets like the slowest fire.
Our bedroom is haunted by something new.
We watch bad tv shows and get bit by ants
all across our hands.
I pray in the car as my mom drives us home drunk.
I pray we don’t die on this empty highway.
I don’t to become folklore. After our death all
the teenagers will tell their little brothers about us to
scare them into crying.
It’s always almost something here.
I was almost state champion, could’ve been.
He almost died last week.
We almost got out of here, y’know.
That slow air so hot you can’t even think.
All the hotels are empty save for lost families
and cheating husbands.
We hide from la llorona, her horrific grieving
body grazing the night fed streets like the slowest fire.
Our bedroom is haunted by something new.
We watch bad tv shows and get bit by ants
all across our hands.
I pray in the car as my mom drives us home drunk.
I pray we don’t die on this empty highway.
I don’t to become folklore. After our death all
the teenagers will tell their little brothers about us to
scare them into crying.
It’s always almost something here.
I was almost state champion, could’ve been.
He almost died last week.
We almost got out of here, y’know.