(0397) no addictions

i've already picked through these last remains, and i watch the birds as they fly without any wings. i tried to measure out the blood inside of my hand, but my words got twisted so i'm measuring the sand left in the hourglass. no addictions; just the repetitive movements of life. disappearing like the disappearing smoke going up in the sky. so afraid yet so in love with a noise. you understand what you can until you have nowhere else to go.

someone help me. i think i need a punch in the face. i can't figure out if all i'm still doing here is just running in place. i made it past the trees right before where we were supposed to turn left, but then i woke up in a garden and sneezed while trying to catch my breath. the instructions were in three languages - none of which i understood. i pretended to be fixing it, but i never even figured out how to pop open the hood. we tend to think we're free until we try to change what we have, but right then is when you realize the only thing you need in life is a proverbial pen and a notepad.

bury the bodies and try to ignore what you can't seem to forget. too many leaves to burn; too many places i haven't gotten to yet. daylight comes and almost ruins the mood, but i take comfort in knowing the movement of a clock will be catching up soon. paranoid victims only live inside the past. is it the answer to the question or the question for the answer you lack? consequence of your undesired outcome isn't known. i think i'll go to bed and let all of this imagination unfold.