ah, but then time re-convinces me

the littlest
amplitude
of tiny blows on sundays
it's steady
and it worsens
to the end of every week
till it's blinding
lights are shining
and the room becomes "camera obscura"
all upside down
but crystal clear
i won't admit that it's worse here
the music i listen to now
all about jesus
yet i can't find it in me to believe it
and every time i go offline
a certian plane lands again
i refuse to believe
so i blame it on coincidence

though i remain unconvinced

i've had enough,
said enough,
felt enough
i'm fine now.

what are you running from? taking pills to get along. creating walls to call your own, so no one catches you drifting off.