t’s a long walk from the train.
The weather looks like hell and there’s a lot to be said
about the people we knew that we won’t ever see again;
the lessons they taught and the holes that they made in
Our lack of sleep.
You’re walking alone and it’s pouring; it’s three in the morning again.
Or reading a book in some restaurant drinking coffee and stuck in your head.
And you’re lost again.
It’s a cruel way to begin.
Just getting started and waiting to end.
Time slipping forward just like it has been.
Can you feel it?
And if you would have know that when the gravity rests, the picture resets.
The memories rush and rescind.
And if you want it so badly, why is it you lost yourself again?