i guess this is what i get for constant self-reflection: a mind full of my waking moments creating midnight aggravation. everything i could have vocalized, but thought up too late. all the music i could have written if i photographed my brain can't describe.
i built step-stones out of the bones, chewed up and spit out by every ex-friend who lives with their eyes closed. i don't know why i can't always sleep at night, maybe it has to do with everything that's always on my mind.
or maybe i'm not tired.
poetic self-searching gets me lost in myself. i don't know about where i am but i know i long for somewhere else. wish i could see past that sweater and snake-like slurred speech, but i can't.