built | train wrecks | set sun
asmz
168
asheville, nc
markers etched into mountain rock as the radio talks to me, sending chills of worry about all that we've become
(you, me - all of self-appointed fallen soldiers)
still rootless, but so very far form boundless
the shutters clicking in my right ear brush against my cracks, and my fragments smile up through the dust to the roof of my mouth
america looming large and oh-so-fucking real.
there's no measure of the road behind.