mostly, words that never quite make it to my tongue.
all the capacity to filter lost in written words
that are often left unread.
my history written in broad strokes of light.
unable to create when i find myself
in some dark corner.
until brave hands pull my imagination out of this place,
it rests in the repetition of these words
of apology. and mythology.
my life a myth,
only denied or confirmed
by these hands that come and go.
wherever truth lies, is where i find
the reason to leave you again.
only,
you beat me to the punch.
Loveless - Okay
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