Achromatized

i keep finding myself sitting on overpasses - not somewhere to belong, just somewhere to be.  i like the neon buzz from taillights and constant “is” to “was” of traffic.  i can see it when my eyes aren’t busy behind a frizzy shock of bangs, trying not to catch attention but hoping an awful lot that someone’ll pay it anyway ‘cause i’m still thinking about those girls without the alcohol.  which isn’t how it happened, but i’ll allow some lapses in memory if it means i’m free to keep blaming myself. talking about it’d sure be nice, but they liked that we were secret, and