I can feel my heart in two places at once, a dividing line of broken fines.  The pain of an existential winter blowing down my spine.  The papercut daydreams that i can't memorize.  Lead me to believe iam just caution tape on the investigation scene. Each cold sunrise leads me to believe i will always be lonely like the trees.  And this bed of bandaids has me disgusing every painful nail coursing through my veins.  

These leisureless habits have me question for right and wrong conditions.  It makes it all easier to say sorry writings on the wall, yet the pen never has enough ink to explain the ending.  I will send no letters, only pieces of forgetton times.  I hope that you pay the fines that hold me to the sorry writings.