the question becomes are your instincts correct or are your instincts lazy and cowardly?
see, most of my life i've been taught i can't really trust my instincts.
my chemicals are off. they're wolves in instincts clothing.
so you go back and forth.
it seems clear. that it would be a good idea. and you're ready.
and it would help free a voice.
and build a movement.
and push progress.
but it won't.
and maybe you're just longing for something you can't have.
or a time that never was.
a look that was never really there.
not how you see it now.
and it could lead to so much pain.
and you're just trying to create an answer that isn't there if you don't force it.
but you're just too afraid to try.
you think you're too weak for failure.
and you just want to hold on to your grudges.
because it's easier.
and you feel like they are at least slightly deserved
and you're just too weak to move on.
but it would finally lead to some peace.
and a stop of what ifs and reevaluations.
and maybe you're stronger than you've ever given yourself credit for.
but you're not.
maybe you just want to believe you could be.
but you miss your friend.
and what they let you occasionally see through their eyes.
but they already decided.
and haven't looked back.
but
but
so there i am. typing. highlighting. deleting. retyping. highlighting. deleting. close the tab. click the name. typing. highlighting. deleting.
"then you did what he asked you to do
you opened your heart up
right there on a napkin on the carpet
part of it was frost bit
but you've always been a smart kid
could still distinguish
blood black as pitch
valves had gone stiff
veins and scar tissue
four chambers
just the standard issue
but none had room
forgiveness is huge
and you had two full of ice water
one full of salt
one packed with coal
eager and ready and willing to find fault"
wrote this one precisely on my birthday
things on my chest i got get off in the worst way
perpetual thirdie... precisely thirty
can't save myself cause i can't find the words, see
i'm rehearsing as some play at time reversing
confined to lurking, i can't even excise the verses
i find diversions while i slide to worthless
but you can't blame a microphone, it's blind to its purpose
how is it they can't see that i'm voiceless
this here... this is a toy, it's
a parlor trick. all sleight of hand and false ego
why would you listen to me of all people?
a life that's been centered on gusts of peddling trust
with a finger on the wound til the sentiments bust
yeah, got a couple milestones, but never enough
they say i'll find home, i'm bettin' on rust
it's settled then, huh? once again it just wasn't enough
mark the time by the stone that's been swelling in guts
i'll set fire to the last 12 pages ripped
and do my best every day to stage a fit
this is the sound of a white flag waving
the sigh of a man losing his patience
now i'll breathe, make that chest heave
repeat, repeat, til death divests the deed
