(no subject)
i will write it over and over again like a drunk who gets better only after they've arrived at their worst.
a constant revision of the words that will never change what they are, nor how they've been spoken.
back to those receeding sky lines of aqua and whiskey dusk.
echos are just audible waves crashing without recession giving no relief and never taking it back.
watching through glass bottles, warped and restless. this is how i find myself ten years later.
aching from my ears ringing.
the record skips over the scuffs and all we hear is scream scratch out of breath.
walking in ones shoadows of one boots' shawdows can be tiring.
skeletons proliferate. there is no more closet space.
the glare between the glass of bottles, enchanting.
until the glitter wears off.
a seed of trained and taught idealism must be watered hourly.
a root full of waste will smell.
a constant revision of the words that will never change what they are, nor how they've been spoken.
back to those receeding sky lines of aqua and whiskey dusk.
echos are just audible waves crashing without recession giving no relief and never taking it back.
watching through glass bottles, warped and restless. this is how i find myself ten years later.
aching from my ears ringing.
the record skips over the scuffs and all we hear is scream scratch out of breath.
walking in ones shoadows of one boots' shawdows can be tiring.
skeletons proliferate. there is no more closet space.
the glare between the glass of bottles, enchanting.
until the glitter wears off.
a seed of trained and taught idealism must be watered hourly.
a root full of waste will smell.