You’re swelling along laugh lines.
You wanted to run inside.
Something dark in the eyes of the plywood
making up the home where you died.
Are you tired of doing what you think you should?
You feel wired, like caffeine never did you right-
Pulse point to pulse point,
wrist to your forehead.
You’ve learned to breathe in a way that don’t affect the dead.
You’ve learned to breath in a way you can’t feel in your head.
Pulse point to pulse point,
wrist to your forehead.
There’s an edge to the night,
I thought it was where I wanted to die.
There’s something proper in pretending you know what’s right.
In the valleys, the gaping abyss, coherence found where two mountains first kiss,
everything is breaking around us.
I want to break my breath,
hear nothing in the place of silence,
but where pulse points are meeting,
my ears are still ringing.
And on the street you used to love, there are people building lives,
there are people building homes tall to cover up lies told.
Darkness accumulating, no longer bright light,
no one starts bad and no one dies right.
Do you think about the size of your mind versus all of times?
Do you think about how age, growing up to win a worthless prize,
makes us all cruel, guilt stifled back with greed. I've not committed worthless deeds, I'm just learning how to be,
Understanding,
understand me.
I am not the person I used to be.
I am not the person I want to be.
There’s an edge to the night,
a needle-thin chasm between something that might
divide into two like your view on the world
but you’re breathing and you’re gasping, freezing your lungs in the cold.
and the stars are burning and they’re breaking the sky that could never hold
the unsurity and insincerity, that has been the basis of anxiety
on the difference between people and the choices they chase after
and the differences that bleed through your past and your future.
We’re not born,
ingrained with a sense of right and wrong.
We’re taught this,
patterns from the natural world.
Twisted from the manmade fear of not being the one whose words are gospel,
we grow, rather, we shrink into something poisoned and hostile
because we’re thinking in terms of opposites,
two things we believe cannot coexist,
instead of befriending indecision,
the fine lines between two decisions:
the grey.
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