Just like that
everything is gone
burning bridges
my favorite hobby
I could make ash all day long
Throw a few more matches to the breeze
Making piles of people and places
and all this memory to be scorched with ease
Things to be replaced
but painstakingly unforgotten
I'm consumed by my subconscious
as my frontal lobe is rotting
Daydreams and hopes
He's coming full circle
Will we ever leave the house now
knowing the ground can be hurtful