Slurring The Rhythms

there were no cameras brought for pictures to hold all the small details. we left them all behind. there was a place for and there was a time for and now we arrive and leave again, there is no point in a keepsake when you run from collections. i know one day there will be a book or a song line to remind me how much it meant to be hungy, exhausted, and alone. destination is a point, destination is a purpose, desperation is a reason to live...and this makes a heart beat. this could be any day of any year. this could be any stage in any city. all that matters is we are moving on. the roadside graveyards pa*s and we escape repeating. the construction of a nation building up and the destruction of a nation tearing down to build again. trailing taillights like the ghosts of the past en route to arrival. we are never going home.