• There's a time and a place for everything, they say
    and it's never been the time
    nor the place
    for this.
    A sense of isolation is starting to equate to a sense of comfort
    no need to risk silly things like emotions
    when I'm already comfy with
    Accused of running from the truth, I swear
    I swear I'm running for answers
    trying to make sense of

    Apologies run rampant
    but I'll be damned if I let them loose.
    I'll never be sorry enough, anyway.
    You sure as hell won't be, either.

    Words are losing their meaning, I've settled back into
    abyss, this recession, this absence of action
    this act of lament, a victim of fashion, fads, whims
    bad ideas with good intentions
    a series of ******** and shutdowns
    shutouts and second chances
    burning bridges while I'm running on them
    the leap of faith has got me falling
    and you can only ever fall alone, no matter who you're clawing at
    clinging to
    trying to take with you

    There's an end, eventually, as there is with everything
    and finally fallen, I can favor my faltering footseps, knowing it made things easier all along.

    I am no martyr.

    I man the turrets, systematically shooting invaders
    when the hull is breached, self-destruct!
    If I don't win, no one does.

    Therein lies the deceit.
    A simple satisfaction, savor the moment, live in the moment, tomorrow never matters.
    But tomorrow always comes
    and we're caught defenseless
    senseless we're running to catch up to the game we thought we played
    we were getting played all the while.

    Empty clarity.
    Everything remains so wonderfully complex
    but like a knot in a shoelace
    comes undone with
    and you're left with a simple piece of string.

    An affront to the eyes, how dare we break things down.
    How dare we take things as they are!
    How dare we refuse to get caught up!
    Fingers work fervently to knot things up, knock us out, not to take it personally
    but we're not meant for their mess.

    Maybe I'm just not meant for yours.
    Or you're not meant for my own.

    Apologies attack
    seeking sense
    walls wither
    knowing nothing

    There's a time and a place for everything, they say
    but the time has passed
    and we're nowhere near
    where we needed to be.

    I am no martyr.
    I'm sorry.