It's still dark out. Winter. Cold Colorado morning.
Suitcase in hand, tears running from my weary eyes.
I walk closer to that broken-down, piece of shit truck and get in.
Immediately, nothing but the sound of music fills my ears.
Blocking everything out. It's all I need. My remedy. My cure.
I can see that my mother is talking to me.
I ignore her and close my eyes.
Only the music can tell me that everything is going to be okay.
We drive.
The city still sleeping.
I feel like the only one dying in this city.
(february2011)
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