A scrupulous endeavor is you.
What more can I do, but to watch, circle, hone my perspective, wait for some kind of understanding. My brain ticks away after you, seeking ignition. Perplexed is becoming more than a state of mind, but an existence, a habitat, and an uncomfortable one. Somehow, this alien atmosphere draws upon my intrigue and I deliberately pull it into my lungs, deep pulls born of curiosity and intended for discovery.
It shouldn't surprise me I come up lightheaded.
The tambour of my mind, trilling its truest, yields no definitive answers, it just patters on futilely into what seems more and more to be your oblivion.
Perched where I be, paused indefinitely, I don't possess the conviction to turn back to more familiar threads - but some ragged ounce of self-preservation keeps me from tipping too far forward that my footing be lost.
I wish I could find you in this sterile plane of uncertainty.
It shouldn't surprise me I come up lightheaded.
The tambour of my mind, trilling its truest, yields no definitive answers, it just patters on futilely into what seems more and more to be your oblivion.
Perched where I be, paused indefinitely, I don't possess the conviction to turn back to more familiar threads - but some ragged ounce of self-preservation keeps me from tipping too far forward that my footing be lost.
I wish I could find you in this sterile plane of uncertainty.