(no subject)
We are all dropping like flies.
I stare at the residue we leave.
And what marks i chose to store.
nothing is ever safe. It is never nothing.
If i told you half of whats paddling around up here you would buckle.
I am not what binds you to the warmth beside your hopes.
The direction you sail looks different from the shore...and my hands have no place in control.
but i cant keep them encompassed in the sand.
the rays of light that are our eyes birth the electricity in my body.
when you find a little bit more of your potential joy im a little bit less apart of it.
the amount of nerve inside them sinks into you and irritates flow of blood to my head.
its a stomach ache that leads to an attempt to cough up everything in the past that remains untouched but is still felt.
it is becoming a reality that our pages are in different books and they are too set in their stories to find eachother.
The thread im hanging by will never be too thin..you always find some way to thicken it...even if its not meant to.
I stare at the residue we leave.
And what marks i chose to store.
nothing is ever safe. It is never nothing.
If i told you half of whats paddling around up here you would buckle.
I am not what binds you to the warmth beside your hopes.
The direction you sail looks different from the shore...and my hands have no place in control.
but i cant keep them encompassed in the sand.
the rays of light that are our eyes birth the electricity in my body.
when you find a little bit more of your potential joy im a little bit less apart of it.
the amount of nerve inside them sinks into you and irritates flow of blood to my head.
its a stomach ache that leads to an attempt to cough up everything in the past that remains untouched but is still felt.
it is becoming a reality that our pages are in different books and they are too set in their stories to find eachother.
The thread im hanging by will never be too thin..you always find some way to thicken it...even if its not meant to.