throat hoarse, bittersweet revival
taste of gravity sours
as i am pulled back to reality
(it’s only been two hours?)
maybe i’m not doing enough to take away this pain
like my reality is that it’s impossible to gain
without losing something
(and hoarse voices can tumble towers
just from implications)
there’s nothing left for me in this place
only thing left is to disappear without a trace
nothing’s empty here – that part’s crystal clear
maybe my mask is worth more than my own face
constrict – tighter, tighter
till you won’t ever say
what you needed to before they got away
maybe i’m too tangled up to currently think straight
like my reality is that it is too late
to ever salvage myself
(and constriction can unwind
just from words)
there’s nothing for me in any of you
nothing shiny or even less likely – brand-new
nothing’s empty here – that part’s crystal clear
but no person is ever full, either
push and push and push away
why won’t they let sleeping dogs lay?
why can’t they just leave alone?
why don’t they permanently postpone
you?
they miss you
they miss you
they miss you
(please come home)
this side of the story 