The Pixie Dust

Im not one for small talk, but hows the weather?

I see you've cut your hair and you're doing better.

Simply speaking sign language, I understand your manner

I didn’t have time for you in my old pocket planner.

Things are different now, shits starting to get better,

Complex cursive notes, back and forth, a text back later

I uncover the layers, all these years, empty prayers...

Swift stares, quick scares, GO BEARS, upstairs, upset, reset, 

not my time yet.

Play the game, go insane, trying to pick my own brain. 

When in doubt, demons sprout, burn the sun out. 

Dark moon nights, internal fights, I cant seem to fucking sleep. 

And here I am, under stars, think of how you crashed the car 

into the barrier of my heart...

let me hold on, reset.

Upswept unkept upset fueled regret, miss the net, throw the bet, just bad lucks quick fuck,


Release the pain, go insane, jump out the door of a crashing plane 

And I cant stop thinking back to days 

Where my life was mine and I was safe.

I feel it coming, sleep pulling my sleeve

I seem to find myself writing with ease

Release my demons with the palm of my hand

Write the pain away, stick in the sand.

Come into myself, I am growing my wings

Regressed progress is still progress none the less

I have these feelings inside I need to get off my chest

And to me, all I do, is for the best.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I moved to Chicago, and my life got turned upside down. Pretty much, this sums up moving through life

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