Title Track

Left uninspired by the crust of railroad earth
 that touched the lead to the pages of your
 manuscript.
 I took my thumb off the concrete and saved up
 all my strength to hammer pillars for a picket
 fence.
 It wasn't quiet what it seemed... a lack of
 pleasantries (my able body isn't what it used to
 be).
 I must admit I was charmed by your advances...
 your advantage left me helplessly into you.
 Talking how the group had begun to splinter
 and I could taste your lipstick on the filter...
 I tried my best to keep my distance from your
 dress but call-response overturns conviction
 every time.
 My memory cannot recall... a wave of alcohol we
 shared a cigarette and shaved the hours off.
 Lushing with the hallway congregation, my best
 judgement signed its resignation.
 I rushed this.
 We moved too fast, and tripped into the
 guestroom.