It’s like the only time I can see outside of this hole Is when I’m trying to make sure others don’t see That I’m digging it deeper And Deeper And Deeper And falling Further And Further And Further Until I can’t get out
leave me in the garden to die. i will not let you save me- leave me alone with the dead leaves of autumn, with the coldness of winter settling in my bones. i don't want to be saved- leave me along the dead and decayed and come back to bury me in the spring. i have left to find death, to pick it's flowers and to finally rest.
One day I will meet my end. Will your face fade from my eyes? I lay buried with you in my heart. The circling sun and moon come together in a line. Abstinence and honesty lose their grip. I die bit by bit seeing the quiver of your lip. O beloved, I implore you to give me your heart. Standing on the other shore, longing to reach you.
is this what it feels like to be a fossil in the making? to have pebbles, sand and grit swept slowly on top of me. not to mention the crushing and deafening of miles of water pressing it all down to bury me.
but sometimes sometimes there's relief and light when someone digs through the weight to reveal the shadow of the creature that once lay there. but then that husk is reduced to cinders in a mountain of others. and i guess you could say that 'power station' is adulthood. or life.
