It Died & Took the Rock With It
That’s the kind of dying that takes rock with it. The kind with time hanging around its neck as a glinting, ticking, silver charm.
We ask how far, but never, “how far have you come?”
So it’s me and the liar moving down the trail.
That’s the kind of dying that takes rock with it. The kind with time hanging around its neck as a glinting, ticking, silver charm.