Radio

Radio


It's funny how
when we were young and hiding
in unfamiliar bottles,
the houses of strangers
we would have died for
listening to songs

that threw something dark
and dripping
on our ears for the first time,
and sent that delicious shiver
of recognition down our backs
because they knew

what it was to hate the world
almost as much
as ourselves,
to be faced for the first time
with the realization
that we were trapped
as sure as a spider in a roach motel;
trapped

in the world we were making
each new day;
it's funny
we never realized they were lying,
all of them,
lying through their teeth.

C.L. Bledsoe

Posted over on Velvet Illusion