(no subject)
and they play games with our minds and paychecks by bobbing in and out of plastic-filled boundaries scattered [in piles?] across my living room floor.
they are attracted to this place, like magnets they are pulled to our lovingness of small black things,
like the robot-eating-kitten drawing, in crayons, hanging on the fridge.
we chase them in the night after inhaling new head changes and drinking out of brown bottles that only make it worse.
lux went far last night, past the perfectly one-shaded cement that forms walkways to us,
until the cars become less familiar and the apartment complexes strangely different, yet exactly the same.
and i recall just two nights before taking the same pathway- but experiencing it in a less prohibited way, yet we still act as if it were so.
we walk below the hallways that once echoed my 12-year-old footsteps.
and we sleep and wake up and sleep and it all becomes a familiar pattern, the only difference being that which we hold highest to wake up for.
i've seen this sun set many times from the exact same spot.
i've walked on that grass before, too, 8 years in difference yet the same parallels.
it was always this way, all this time just looking for someone to see the details with.
experiences and sunsets compliment its opposite, but it hasn't changed.
we head back to the warmth of a place to go.
back to the house of fluffy terrors and tell-tale fuzz covered sweaters that give away where you slept last night.
its these feelings that tell me that which i regret leaving behind was always right where i left it.
and she's writing again.
i've seen this sun set many times from the exact same spot,
i was just waiting to get lost in its shadows again.
they are attracted to this place, like magnets they are pulled to our lovingness of small black things,
like the robot-eating-kitten drawing, in crayons, hanging on the fridge.
we chase them in the night after inhaling new head changes and drinking out of brown bottles that only make it worse.
lux went far last night, past the perfectly one-shaded cement that forms walkways to us,
until the cars become less familiar and the apartment complexes strangely different, yet exactly the same.
and i recall just two nights before taking the same pathway- but experiencing it in a less prohibited way, yet we still act as if it were so.
we walk below the hallways that once echoed my 12-year-old footsteps.
and we sleep and wake up and sleep and it all becomes a familiar pattern, the only difference being that which we hold highest to wake up for.
i've seen this sun set many times from the exact same spot.
i've walked on that grass before, too, 8 years in difference yet the same parallels.
it was always this way, all this time just looking for someone to see the details with.
experiences and sunsets compliment its opposite, but it hasn't changed.
we head back to the warmth of a place to go.
back to the house of fluffy terrors and tell-tale fuzz covered sweaters that give away where you slept last night.
its these feelings that tell me that which i regret leaving behind was always right where i left it.
and she's writing again.
i've seen this sun set many times from the exact same spot,
i was just waiting to get lost in its shadows again.