good morning that bad feeling wakes me from sleep from all of those secrets you keep. the ones with the high stakes and broken beats, just turn away. dont forget the suitcase of all the things ive been through and dealt with for you (you always liked to say us). 372 days later the bad found its way seeping through to stay which is the signal to come and find me, just walk away. ill try not to choke and notice the whole "out of/out of" motif (which, for the record, kept me from rest in the first weeks). i hope it wont be too many of those terrible reminders called years before I can just sleep forever, wrap the white olive branch around the early grave and say i surrendered to everything i couldnt fake, just pray away. "you're just the brick, you're not my home." just the soft sigh, not the phone. just because you're the last i see before i sleep, doesn't mean you're the dream. not the scream, just a screw, not the machine, just go away. an exaggeration of yesteryear, your wasted breath, your blinded peripheral. so, rain, go back to the airport with your song cause you made it and then you break it dislocate it far from your heart, but above your pain. there's an equation for your sick sunrise, just run away. walk the fine line between the sidelines of life, because you will never see the seasons change as quickly as they do here, celebrate your brief joys and spend the rest of your life trying to be anything but yourself.
just walk away.
