by Damian Rucci trayce B back home on the coast I chased down this sadness with every cigarette sucked into the crevices of my lungs with every double shift of work beaten into the soles of my feet with every line of drugs I followed into the swan song of morning and when we left to Missouri I thought i left it behind me stuck in the infinite crashes of the atlantic on the beaches of Long Branch tied to the pillars of the boardwalks we dodged daylight beneath but it found me