I was writing on the way home... Awareness isn't easy. Art must be an intrusion and I have more of it now. I'm grown on my own, it happens. Its easier to love something that goes home, every night to mommy. Let's take asylum inside purple steel and then we will survive another apocalypse.
Sorry busy take care! Let's toss some bangsnaps, our thoughts quick, no mental lapse. Puncture holes in the place filled with melodies. Mystifying, how you haunt me. My good intentions don't matter beyond here. Tuning into beats, everyone forgets, less afraid of what we made, amplified by the TV. Recover from an imprint. I remember another land like only a transplant would...
There's no perfect soul and I don't know how to need without wanting or want without needing. But...I'm learning. Give me something and I will take it, make it, break it... Even better, I'll gladly accept. Pure energy... Love sponge.
Wasting time wondering about strangers, staring at nothing in a face. Cold wind upon my daydreams blow outside. Escape and its more than just hiding. You have your hand back and I gave you a finger. Fires and floods, uncertain earth and cancer, you're just dandy. Nothing ever really happens to you, an avatar in the future world, its rigid in its "1...2...3...4...fuck the system."
Officially, I never wanted to stay the same. My giant butterfly had nothing to do with anyone. It was dumb ego. it was "my pain"... One wing shorter and closer to more permanent flight... I can take it. Respect is subjective. Everlasting, nothing is. It will always leaves a mark, but the stitches go away.
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