I was swimming beneath the ocean, the silence providing my comfort, the break acting as my disguise, the waves standing guard
Finally, I was able to think, to really think about the world that was spinning, the time that was ticking, and my heart that was beating
The fish swam past me wondering why I was holding my breath in agony when I could just swim to the surface and breathe again, but they were never going to understand, because time doesn't exist to them.
Time doesn't exist to them
Time doesn't exist to them
Time doesn't exist to them
it all made sense as the water continued taunting me submitting to the current, and the seconds of air remaining in my lungs swam away safely to the surface
The shackles of time are a prison of our own creation, and we waste our lives swimming in our existence trying to unders
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If hope can change a life, why are you still sitting?

Why do circles have to be neverending?

I started writing without a heart

and you... you were the thief that took it
or was it willingly withdrawn?
It doesn't matter because I'm still right here!
Right where you left me, and you have my words, my sentences, my poems and a heart... my heart.
You had never planned to keep it did you?
Or was it that you had planned to give me something in return?
I'm still waiting, and I have nothing but empty words, sentences, poems, and a chest cavity with room for a heart.
I started writing without a heart in hopes to find one and I did...
With one last period, came one last beat
and  I am left without a heart again.

The other day I restocked on peppermint Altoids,
when I always buy the spearmint.
And I'm not sure why,
but thinking about tequila makes me smile.

I've been feeling a lot more lately,
In quantity over quality.
And I haven't been able to place it,
but with the passing days the music's become acoustic.

Between the coffee and the beers,
Father John Misty preaches away my fears.
And although I've disagreed with today,
I know tomorrow w̶e̶'̶l̶l̶ I'll be okay.

It will still break my heart when it changes again, the same way it did when I first noticed it. You've been my home for years, and now I'm starting to feel homeless as you slip away. I wish you would come back to me, come back home and love me like you once did. Love me with your words, and your touch like you did what feels like so long ago. I've always loved you as sure as I have always breathed oxygen. I want to come home, and not return to this empty house. Please, come back, please come back.

It's just a glass of scotch! It might as well be water.
I drink it just like a four year old drinks a Capri-
no, a Juice Box.
I don't want it on the rocks, I take it neat, like my room.
See? It's just like milk! Do you drink milk with ice?
It's not illegal, and if you don't believe me take a look at the box
It says it's been aged 21 years, and my other at 25!
My scotch is so old it gets discounted car insurance like your mom did however many hundreds of years ago it was.
It's just scotch so stop whining about it.
Actually, that gives me a great idea,
I'll go drink wine. Happy?