I used to be a realist I swear

You are not standing

On solid ground that you banked on being there haven't you learned anything you never make the deposit before you have the cash to back it up that's the first rule of basic survival.

Surviving on manipulation disguised with clever quips won't hold you over

Surviving on an ego no one wants to fluff anymore won't hold you over 

I only see these things now that I'm standing fifteen feet away at all times

And I am so sorry.
Because this is all only compensation.
For the fate that I banked on
A little too wholeheartedly
One time too many

Another empty reach for a rescue
That I never had a chance of. 

365

Rolling credits cut copy and paste
If we don't believe in reality then it'll hit a little harder
Tangled limbs on beds of resignation
I have the now to hold me over to the next life
The then weighs heavy, I can't carry it forever
Even so
There will always be slow acoustic on a rainy day
I'll never escape it, not with those clouds and this truth
For those who see the most beauty in hindsight
Well, it's just the only way to feel. 

Perpetual

Some days we turn pages on dimes, it's crazy to think those pages are that sharp.

I know this for sure after running them across hairline fractures to deepen the grooves.

They looked like capillary eyesores.

Well I too was sore when stepped on.

Stepping out is so prolonging and recreant, 

Stepping out wasn't part of the deal when the tune of a contract was played on my heart strings,

All that was audible was the dawn of a new promise.

No don't step out. 

When the season comes to a close run out at the sprint you ran into this with. 

The dust that is stirred will be all the preservation needed,

Because who said forever had only one way of seeking out the fortunate.

This rose colored perception that has infiltrated itself can be tainted without regret. 

Truthfully I never saw the appeal of perfection to begin with.

now is when the stripes of the skyline

will match up with the rivers of our moon shine

as it bends on painted window sills into angles more definable

beneath the shelter of the warped wood

penetrates the rain onto our faces

leaving streaks that are traceable

and cutting through layers of rusted favors.

night will meet end at the horizon

joining in stunning union

just because i can carry you home doesn't mean i'm basket case material 

unraveling eventually from the loose ends left frayed and exposed 

lean down a little longer i'll let you hit the ground hard enough to swallow truth.

me i consider myself a peninsula

separating myself almost whole in uncertain waters

you can hold my left hand

not my right because i'm clinging onto land

bound isn't a pitfall it's an essential for foggy mirrors and murky lakes

fuck reflections i can see all i need with eyes closed and disregard open.

Transverse

parallel lines have always served as a comfort
because i know
no matter how far they go they will never cross paths
with another
and lose a piece of themselves in the process of
factionalized patience with no beginning
only the promise of a fleeting junction
only hesitant common ground
only end.

Blue Sidecar

Blue sidecar hold me above the tracks
Keep time
Keep time against the hum of lazy hours
As they forge ahead to cushion the fall
Falling
Pushing through soft sheets of identity suspended in the air 
I might almost taste the condensed clouds
Breathe them in and let them swim
There lies sweet release in the saturation
Folding into the crevices of progression
Speeding across terrain in nimble flight
I come to stand stills now and then
For a moment only to forget 
The rhythmic pulsing of blue sidecars
Until we board again

Phases

I swallow myself whole as I breathe
Noiselessly
Through lungs bruised with my own handprints
Crushed with all the expectation of crossing out lines drawn in the sand
Crossing over was too easy
Time will pass
Without the familiar hesitation
Grinding
Rendering me raw
Marching on with a rhythm that echoes out of my rib cage
Fumbling from my mouth and staining sheets of beige paper
Close my senses
Until soft grey vapors can work their way into my dehydrated ambition
Always shrinking in the dull heat of obligation
.