New York makes me feel so seafoam black in the wintertime.
In this climate no matter what you choose you lose.
So I wander the world seeking various forms of warmth and empty spaces.
Here I am.
Who wouldn’t want to escape? Oh the prices one pays to follow a dream.
What would it cost to skip a step, or two?
Leaving memories right where they are when they hurt.
Learning by backtracking like The Almanac.
Now, I’m looking back on moments I couldn’t wait to complete with nostalgia and mental screenshots of how you looked at me. ‘Faded pictures in a broken glass’ or something like it.
Here we are.
Next to you I sit, breathing in harsh realities exhaling my own interpretations of the truth with glitter sprinkled on top like greatness.
What a rush when you win.
What a rush when you have the opportunity to begin again.
What’s the rush?