We run, we stop, we turn to look at all that was and all that never was. All that is broken, all that may be poetic. All that screams at us and still screams for attention. All that burns for us and burns in us, that never could be stale smoke. //full poem in caption// We stumble, fall, run away and all that we do leads us back to where we first stumbled on the perfectly polished pavement. Where the sweet sweet shrieks, sweet sweet demons, sweet swift lies stay awake. Where the bitter strangeness stares at us, till date. Where the bitter strangeness stares at us. Till date. We ask, we answer, we ignore.
