static

your words are lost in a place with infinite distraction narrowed down to a moment where eyes meet and lips move well we can't even concentrate on what is right in front of us anymore the clouds are just moving because the wind tells them to they are not a playground up high like we thought am i foolish

for thinking we could create our own reality and i forget what is supposed to be important repression is vigorous once you allow it to be am i selfish for wanting to go back in time to tell my former that it just wasn't worth it that it was as simple as it ever could have been but the greyscale was not the same as black and white that the little things they thought didn't matter were of the utmost importance all those people scattered around like pinpricks it's as if they were all just running in place eating uncertainty and drinking bad advice did you read the news the world is ending tomorrow evening but we're all too fucked up to believe it