rotting celebration

we cant seem to look past 

our past, ahead stretched out

past its limits and limp

clumpy mess of past, 

present and past

got nothing, so make it last

we drag it, the pride

of our past, it leaks and reeks

leaving behind a trail

of indecipherable faultlines

our only anchor to pride,

our past that pops and drowns

for our future, to drag on

yet anchored we are

to where we belongs, as past

emulsifies into our future

clumpy stretched out mass of color

Of black and white