1. |
Hardwood
02:56
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I'm still going through this process, and there's a lot to be discovered. It's a narrow line, but I'm no stranger to discomfort. I've spent nights sleeping on hardwood floors; but nothing compares to the feelings of standing at your door. My drive home has never seemed so long, from front porch steps to my heart that's made of stone. I swore I'd never let you in, but it's evident that I'm slow at getting over this. I've spent nights wide awake, seeing nothing but your face. Shrouded in darkness, and far from unharnessed, my mind begins to race. I remember a lot but I don't know where we met; maybe that's my mind repressing all the shit you left in my head. I've got some growing up to do, but there's so much time for that. The only thing that's growing now is this stack of words, and conscience that I lack. I'm moving forward oh so slowly, but it's something. I'm on my back porch in the rain and your memory's finally fleeting.
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2. |
Temporary
03:23
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The sun pokes through these vacant clouds while the weight of the world pulls my shoulders down. I always swore I'd make my parents proud, but somehow I think I forgot about myself. I've had a tendency since sixteen to ruin things held close to me. The snow falls fast and coats the street, as well as my fondest memories. I've learned how to manage being alone, but the way I think has changed. On this long drive home I count the days and the ways that my life has been rearranged. Surrounded by faces I never knew, I'm better off in this empty room. Close the door, push my pride aside, I'm more inclined to hide than to have you by my side. The whole world is spinning 'round me, I'm nothing out of the ordinary. The whole world will spin without me, I am entirely temporary. I tend to write my endings before my beginnings, 'cause that's the only way that's fitting. It feels good to vent, my therapy and these words go hand in hand. I'm so sick of changing and saying I'm sorry for things that I never did in the first place. So go home and face this, I'm tired and wasted from digging my own grave. Streetlights fail to illuminate my past, so I can't see my own way out. Will I make it out of this? Coffee steams on the desk beside me. Maybe I'll land on my own two feet. We'll see. Will I ever learn how to fix me?
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3. |
Complacency
04:09
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I’ve had a hell of a year, and it’s not even three months in. Yet I’ve had time to reflect on where I’ve come from and who I’ve been. I’m drawn out and torn down, this sweater I’ve worn now for three straight nights starts to smell like the weather that’s clouding my head, but with every step I’m getting further and further ahead. The fog’s slowly lifting, I’m wading and shifting my way through this head space, headstrong in my place. Complacent and faded, I’m tired, sedated, why does all that I love slip away. But you kept on standing there, to serve as a constant reminder of the things that I have and the people that stayed, of the thoughts in my head and the road that I pave. Yeah you kept on standing there, to serve as a constant reminder of everything I have left, and everything that I’ve ever said. There’s a difference between being lonely and being alone, and the sadness that’s inherent in both is either assumed or cuts to the bone. Currently I’m rising but I’m falling all the same. I’m not exactly in pain, but I’m not exactly okay. I feel the approach of the spring, but there isn’t one in my step. I’m not standing still, I just haven’t started running yet. But you kept on standing there, to serve as a constant reminder of the things that I have and the people that stayed, the thoughts in my head and the road that I pave. Yeah you kept on standing there, to serve as a constant reminder of everything I have left, and everything that I’ve ever said I never meant. I hope it’s for the best. I’m complacent. The snow covers the ground, weighs all my branches down. Like petals from a rose I fall but I never make a sound. Exhausted and confused, with nothing left to lose. So I'll just run in circles 'til I find comfort in the truth.
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