We travel down broken roads;
Trip,
Fall,
Seemingly missed steps farther up, down.

Life is a mystery as you look forward, a lost when you look back, trying to remember what happened a few miles back.

Names?

Dates?

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Where were you when the world ended?

We stand up, dust ourselves off, move forward, fourty steps, then twenty steps back, repeat.

Are we alive?

Are we living?

Are we just surviving?

Is this it?

Is the magic gone?

The sweet wine done consumed, the madness left, to sit at night and contemplate the wreck.

All the lies we have seen, the tries we have done, the words that have been spoken, rejoice, sadness, the world spinning.

Death is not the end but only the beginning, a new journey I am not willing to begin yet.

I hear the spirits call, do not get me wrong, soon, I want to go behind the black curtain, to join those who have gone before.

I sit here at night, contemplating my life, tears, joy?

Not really.

I am frightened.

I am tired of broken roads and broken dreams.

I am tired of this rugged journey.

Do I stop, here, at this point?

Or do I continue farther down the road, a step in front of steps, to stumble, to fall, to try and stand again, to continue the journey, one step, one moment, a passage of time, one minute, one second, each truth, developed in twins of lies.

Wandering of the mind, one more drink of the sweet wines, to make sweet love to you, one last time, there upon the beach, the waves caressing us, holding us, letting our souls entwine in heavenly sex, the world far away, a distant memory.

One step, a journey down a broken road, one moment, step forward, two steps back.

Shall I continue?

I cannot answer.

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