Back to bed

The winter was a little colder that year, so everyone thought that the summer would be a little hotter too. But it wasn't. We were all just sitting in our rooms and visualizing sticking mellon ballers down our throats and into our stomachs to scoop out all the misgiving, just like a cantaloupe. But I don't hang off of vines, I hang off of words. I hang on to hourglasses, I hang out to soak and mostly, I hang myself with indifference

Yield

I saw you on a train the other day 

Brushing over with your habits, yes dear, I still like sleeping on my side and I think you like it on your stomach, some things never changed

I hope my eyes said that out loud because my mouth can't say those things out loud anymore, I can't think those things, out loud, anymore, any more.

I saw through you on the train the other day 

The other side said "these few years will be for the better" and I said, "okay"

Purgatory

Dry swallow the day, wash it down with something else later 
Press down a little harder and rub up against a stranger 
Living an existence of fallen in the lap
Heaps and mounds I'm sifting through for the sake of busy hands
I'd rather be boring
I like those soft sciences 
Now sometimes I get high
Off the day and from scratch starting 
But when I crawl into bed I pull the shades down much too far
I can't see the dusk but the same goes for dawn
Here's the laughter and the smiles
They never had the sense to leave me 
Following that leader
Reading that script I didn't write 
I've become too indifferent 
Towards a taste I shied away from 
Except a numb tongue tastes nothing
And so on I keep this shit up   

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.