Do you ever get nervous.
And you say the wrong thing  

No I want it to be spring.
I want to feel love bring me a bit closer.
Pilfer through the past,
run with a purpose
but I know one thing is for certain it matters not the days or the weeks and how things worsen

I see the clouds
and how they’ll part and how I’m
a person
the versions who make them selves appear is weird
but I know the end of suffering is near

it’s the crowded rooms in the train stations waiting to board, lazily the coach opens and you hop aboard.
The rewards of watching birds flock Inside as the atrium between you
and the outside is wide.
When I remember the past I break
through the worst.
Wishing for the feeling
of love without hurt.
In pairs they’d fly though the building, following the train as it moves to the open, to the green grass fields I wield this ability to see the congruency of each step in my life.