Time's Up, Pencils Down

Lately I've been trying to resuscitate my own murder. I feel for you, but mostly just for them. The names I'm scratching out are only more failed attempts to change the heart I'm buried in. Eventually they'll all want to ask me how I did it.

Let's face it. I have been painted on waves that were born to crash. Shorelines act as positive signs and changes. All the right words are trapped inside a shy throat. Nobody wants me clean. "He was so much more fun hungover."

So for now let us dance alongside the lights until the sun forgets it's job. Lets connect each star in the sky with footsteps. Tonight we will wear the title of the 'it' kids. Rooftops match reputations. Let's make the moon our personal disco ball. November nights are too late for fireworks but lets make them anyway. Just to watch them burn across the skyline and swallow up the city. Scarves and gloves. Cold lips against warm necks. Fingertips along waistlines. And this is me trying to add something in between the good nights and good byes.

Fine lines lay between friction and release. And remember that only the safe keep it simple. Gotta keep telling myself to stay out in left field, behind enemy lines, and on the right side of the fence.