The yellowed page 
of the books and books 
I'd forgotten that I had
These paperbacks 
they know their age 
they smell of weight 
and time that's resting warm
The opened box beside 
the endless box parade 
that haunts my house
Is fit to split with photographs 
that tell the wanderlust of years 
smashed on to years
When all this actual life played out
Where the hell on Earth was I?
I rack my brains but it won't come
Through water damaged bloodshot eyes
The fleeting triumphs, brazen lies
All seem to mingle into one
I read your name under words 
in your elegant hand 
you probably don't mean now
I fold the letter 
and think of a million 
and one things 
that I could have done different
When all this actual life played out
Where the hell on Earth was I?
I rack my brains but it won't come
Through water damaged bloodshot eyes
The fleeting triumphs, brazen lies
All seem to mingle into one
One gigantic fairy tale
Of friends I haven't seen in years
Drinking 'til the daylight hurts
You seem friendly who are you?
That's a lot of wine 
that we got through
We've made playtime look like work.
Please just take these photos 
from my hands
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