something

[robertmousseau]

My last place feels empty
Listening to these broken sounds wash gently,
Sneaking open, down, and under
Each of the fragile things I thought I knew.

In the freedom of the roar
I smiled happy and triumphant -
Fleeting gladness falling sober,
Face down memory feeding famous scenes.

-----

"we know how you love that snare off, austin, but we're gonna turn the snare on."