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Torn from this comfort
Everything is taking shape
Forign. Cold. Stale. Fake.
I settle down for what is to become
Of me, of us, of these friends
with lives of two faces
private and public
Buisness as usual
Casual lives, With dress to match
Careful footsteps on little bridges
Made of thread and fiberglass
I laugh.
Lines not connecting
Thoughts not focused
Feelings made up
Cry for attention.
They drip down on me.
Reflecting my lies and everyone elses.
I laugh.
Tomorow is a new begining.
A lie, it will be the same.
Nothing is new, everything is a result of yesterday
And last week, and last month and lastnight.
Those mistakes and plotted moves that will shape your life.
I pull away from it all.
This comfort blanket.
I sit down with a glass of wine.
I hope to enjoy the rest of this.
This life, this night, this day in peace, this moment, this feeling, this awkward out of places words and situations. Disconnected from it all with drugs and sex and violence. I speak formal though fake. And it all spawns from a girl, from a friend, from somone I've used, from someone who has used me.
I laugh.
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