Days walking away,
Kisses feel desire,
Cars pull endings,
Lungs fear death,
Anew pulse halts,
Civilization titers distance,
Scripts knife rhythms,
Anxiety faces silence,
Tomorrow mirrors endless waterfalls,
Apologies intertwine awful choices and flawless heavens,
We protect reasons,
Yet stain morals,
Ice told passing nearly fearing its spacious momentary dive into choking rhymes,
Than loses sparkling depth,
No meaning and the journey loses its gleam.

I miss days I never lived
and people I've never met
because I look at brushstrokes on paintings
more carefully than I care to admit
and I find myself wishing
that all texts were sent by mail

Maybe it's the fact
that I cannot challenge myself
to write on paper,
due to it's permanent nature,
and pressing 'delete' allows us
to begin our days
with a sense of carelessness
that we nurture
by highlighting every moment
and pressing 'copy' and 'paste'

Perhaps it's the sound of the keys
clicking beneath my fingertips
that makes me feel
as though I am making progress
and productivity is occurring
or perhaps the familiar music
makes me feel less alone

Perhaps a typewriter
could have done me some good
as it would have taught me
permanence
and also echoed off
my bedroom walls
to remind me that my thoughts
will keep me company
when no one else will