Receipt

Bus stops are one full breath apart
Is why men drink in them.
Their poor slow hearts,
Their poor slow blood.
Leant on elbows on knees they
Hawk up galaxies.
The car becomes a well when you
Cry there. 24h carpark.
—Without my
Marrow and the wind blows I’m a flute,
And when there’s no wind I run to make it.
I wish you couldn’t see where I sleep.
I run beside the bus, in the cover of it,
In the heat of its exhaust.

—Samuel Acres

The World

Putting the time in
to not putting the time in,
prioritizing distraction
while luxuriating
in imaginary retrospective glory.
Out beneath the light of the world,
the truth is another story,
and nobody’s going to tell it,
even after you’re gone.
One’s invisible victories
became fully realized defeats.
But you were a legend
in your own mind, at least.
Some people don’t even get that much.

—John Tottenham