a day of heat, sweat and dusty plaster, which seems to be indefinitely embodied in my lips, just as you are. no matter how i try i can never truly do anything - meaningful that this - more than a sweet calming voice. it doesn't really help, does it? how can i metaphorically put this hopelessness into words?
at times, it feels like we're worlds apart, so distinct, so far away, and yet i can almost reach you, i can almost make out your troubles...i just wish i could do something - i'd conjure a measure of perfection embodied in blue to wisk you away to what you might envision as carefree carelessness on a distant island in an alternate telepathical universe.
...in slightly emotional, undisrupted, contemplative pieces i feed my soul on the truth in your lies. neverending, this solipsistic outlook which overshadows the desire of simple unreality consumed by affixed nothingness. don't bother ...no need is fulfilled by mere presence and the blissful ignorance i solemnly preach.
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