Final Page of the Brown Book (No Title Yet)

I watched as she eventually exhausted herself, her pace slowed to sunken stroll, relentless weave down dank, dirty streets

We're going to stay here for now she told me, grasping my waist with the tightest clench

We'll be safe amongst the vermin, trash and phantoms of homeless men past

That's all a dream now

Yes, if the last grasps for the cold air held any significance-they had to-she was returning to the crag where she began, most would call full circle

It is impossible to be anything but which you were born and bred

Everything thought about me was all wrong
And I can no longer control my instinct to see-saw in the farthest corners of your head

Drawing Game cont.,

Did it make your heart race faster still?

And is it all so undemanding

now that it unravels at your feet, down the long expanse of time yet to come?

Well, no, I suppose not

I suppose it meant little to you

as these things go

I suppose it was just an inaudible pass

of fluids between beings
She admits it now

I was charmed by your advances

And isn't it just wild how the burden of supposition in a crowded room holds no weight?

How it thrives in the unsettled gusts that surround you

passing through the clamoring mouths while you fall, again, silent and still