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 pass 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.