KosmoKOYOTE

My little horror show, a life no longer comforting, but still, it keeps going. The motorcycle wrecks of my youth my reckless dances with fate— etched into my bones. Each scar a whispered memory, a testament to youthful invincibility. My body now a relic, a museum of aches and regrets, pathetic and worn, like an old leather jacket that's seen too many storms. What was it all for? The wild rides, the laughter, the reckless abandonment— I wouldn't change much, for those moments were my currency, spent freely on the carousel of life. Friends, once vibrant constellations, now fading stars, their light extinguished, Leaving behind echoes of laughter, and empty barstools. I’ve seen so many lives tumble and burn. Some by going too fast but more by moving too slow. My body, a crumbling temple, no longer capable of half the feats it once reveled in. Yet, there are still moments usually after a few drinks, when I look up at the stars, and they shimmer like forgotten dreams. These