Graffiti and Waylon Jennings in my mind
I can still smell the paint
I can still see your eyes
I can still hold you
Came across screenshots
Of the way you once spoke to me
If you’re in it with someone
Sometimes it’s harder to see
Philosophies are pointless
If they are not lived
Thoughts are damaging
if you are using them for their sake
Or to project something you’re tired of being
I have lost control
I have let things get the better of me
There’s some imaginary scoreboard
Somewhere in the emptiness
I’ve never asked myself to keep count
Or to look up and check it
Sometimes the lesser team wins the game
Fortunately, and unfortunately
We’re all going out the same way
My dreams have been so elaborate the last three nights
I wonder if they’re trying to tell me something
It feels like I’m living another life
And I am just realizing as I’m speaking this poem aloud
That every dream I’ve ever had is in the same world
They’re all interconnected somehow.
I can’t wait to find out.
Whether I’m wrong or right
The discovery
the revelation
service station
do i need a break from myself?
maybe
some healing would help
