You keep it going, A soft rose's vine
extends, rolls out - a yo-yo horizontal,
and she just makes me feel beautiful.
You'll never get inside this head.
Never, unless the blankness in you Seeks
a constant blank, transformation,
can not. Will Not. Express.
My head hearts,
my heart hurts,
and most of the time I am thinking.
You thought you could save me.
A selfish fetish, it's so hard to see out
the cracks look like a lost art of architecture
where the foundation screams out,
in the middle of the woods,
in the middle of a park,
right there, we survive.
that's enough blank space than I'll ever know it.
A ball picks up turbulence, I keep burning ground
and it's a little too late now but that's okay,
I'm more used to embarrassment than you probably know,
enough years now to feel like I don't care
and you know I always will.
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