Deep Thoughts for the Day: Tepid

does it happen in the way that you see it does. time fermenting into an inebriant. while your memory flatters itself with half truths about what almost was.

do you desire their return for selfish purposes or because you genuinely believe they were happier having been a part of your life.

now that the last page has been read and the cover closed, who will check that book out next. and when they return it, what condition will it be in?

what passages will they have highlighted or commited to memory.

what of the content will mix with their own and change them.


are we to know eachother outside the confines of spartan lyrics. have we vision or only just eyes.

the neccessity insists we were, if not now, then before. together somehow. but the truth is, those pages all remain unnumbered. uneditted.

as doubt runs amuck. all i can do is try to remember how clear it once was.

patches of denial sewn over the very real holes life has worn through its knees. these clothes are not new anymore, but they still manage to cover up what needs to be.

nothing becomes itself as we allow. foster loves return to their real families.

and i find myself wanting. not what i once did. that lying summer breeze. but instead the winter as it will. frigid temptress. only to give just what they want from me. only to lose what of myself is still real now.

pungent is the smell of alone as it settles deep into arrogant misfits.

tepid tears fall not. every moment before this hopelessly lost.