occam

you wont understand
and neither will i

the ditch running between
us running along roads

cold/warm 
grey/bright 
des/in/formed
escape/escape

still, hardly do 
we share the independence with anyone
but us, nomadic concentrated bonds

we, hardly share needs
just a fate
i am fortuned, you say
while you hate every reminder of the ditch

we don't call it anything
let it be, let her just be, 
because i can listen, sometimes
to hate and the shape of the road

in between stations i see you thinking