Your soul slips out sometimes

Your soul slips out sometimes:

The Specter, Alabama

It just remembers somehow.

That it never had to remember.

That it knew like a whisper from a waking-dream

That sits, flash-baked into your memory,

The party guest that refused to leave.

Like a little kid running away to home,

Sprinting toward its Specter.
Like that, your soul slips out sometimes.

It ran in front of my car one day and stopped and

stared at me with LCD eyes into me and past,

(I swear to God I was blinded, then);

I swerved and missed my exit and

Skidded onto the one I was looking for all along.

We've been contracted, you see,

To build a bed for the world to

Rest its tired eyes and dream.

To create, perhaps, a softer world.

So let's strip our coats of armor off and

Run forever to our Specter,

Shouting at the top of our lungs

That we're alive and we goddamn love it.

I promise we'll never look back.

“Bottle your regrets and throw them out to sea.”