I'm slowly mulling over the gaping empty spaces we all left, ones that I helped dig hollow myself.
Is any standstill a pleasant one as this,
Times frozen without vindication.
Addicted to those tiny jubilant, fuzzy but blissful moments.
Tiny coping mechanisms
Altered memories that will somehow glue together simplicity.
Lets try and forget the vastness of it all
Lets keep dancing this dance, and pretending that the smoke that fills our lungs doesn't make us spit in the morning.
Tiny snippets of modified memories I can handle rather well.