Under construction and the panic of influence
Because of all the days I could have woken up late, today was it.
Jerking knees and my chest is filling with bruises. Chords rewind
Ears crashing titans crashing waves of solid ice.
Countdown to oblivious as I'm reeling in shallow water.
Shifting gaze of mechanical eyes, attached to skins held together by tree sap. Degrees replayed.
Apprehensive fingers strained over nonsensical bitterness cascades me into madness as I'm charted on lined edges.
What is of this reality but an emotion made of endless stringing thoughts of unconnected branches.
Branches of trees unrooted, have shame in numbers for freedom is of numbers less than fools counted. Cycles hanging.
Tremble in feet on stands against this dissipating sadness, of my retaliation.
Failed error codes grain across filtered skies and I've scrapped my elbows against these brick walls I'm no longer climbing.
Disembodied movements flow elatedly.
Shedding fear as spools of strength in garnishment reject my solitude and you are the world I'm half living.
Blind me one sidedly a thought of need made up of a false sense of some sort of special, placed on the head of every other. Chimes sound.