I expected the relapse
but still there is a warmth
One year ago, on this day
Two years ago, on this day
I never should have left you,
my dearest friend
I never knew how cruelly
our time would be taken for granted
This was never the end
I'll be seeing you

the air is cooler
and the taste is bitter
these last moments of comfort
are my only solace
for what's to come

I'm not like my sister
who ***** up to you
because her real dad is dead
I'm not like you
who ****** up to your parents
so you could enroll to Eastman
I'm not like my mother
who ****** up to your promises
before it was too late

The words that I speak to you are real
I am not a puppet
You make me *****
With every demeaning scoff
At any instant I open my mouth

Estrangement isn't a joke, you know
You won't be laughing
when the last of us are gone
and you die alone
with no company but your own ego

somehow, even now
after every dreadful year
you never fail to appall me
with your prevalence
in being completely devoid of empathy

I was out again this evening
the prairie fields are already dying
my final farewell to summer, I suppose
Adventure of desire
turned to desire for adventure
I'll blame it on my horoscope and laugh
It didn't matter,
as long as I could still see the mountains
from the rearview mirror
I felt everything at once,
feeling swarming like pigments
before the muddy, brown crash
From omnipotence to pure isolation
A month of tired, restless hysteria
I may hold no expectation,
but still with my hopes I must be careful
As long as the void prevails,
I am my own creator
But the prairie is dying
and so I presume my morning routine

I like to think that your bed
is still filled with feathers
with your weight, and pressure
releases the crush and the sigh
of something more fragile
and something more stable

solitude is a favorable theme
however ironic
to my human orientation
and tendency to love
sometimes that means to live without