Maggots Love Subway

Slide your mind down my presence and feel the soul nudging greatness.
Blue lights turning black and the smiles of the liars are your only guild.
No music, yet the dance goes on and the heat breaks your heart.
Marked forever. Underlined. Stretched. Known.
No secret ending and no lost sessions.
Just days and nights and substance. Recycled and reused and redone until your bones break and your intellect withdraws, leaving you bent then dead.
The big dirt sleep.
The Worms crawl in. The do not Worms crawl out. Ever.
Naked.
Embraced.
But until then, the moments move.
Decided checkpoints to an unknown goal.
Who really cares if it is a happy or a sad time? It is both.
Right?
Isn’t that the real truth? Everything sucks and is difficult and it all ends darkly, but it is beautiful and exciting and everyday has the chance for something better and right, even when it just gets worse.
For some, the joke is that it isn’t wrong. In anyway. Never was. But they, we, can go hunting for a scraped knee. Because the smell of a Band-Aid, freshly opened, reminds them of that feeling of a kiss to make it better. Innocence is desire.