On every turn around that occurs I come back here to empty my beating heart... Finding the shelf of memories accept one an other as if long lost friends jus doing their part... This space in which discussion takes place is a rather lonely feeling letting go of the wheel... Listening to voices from the past chatter amongst themselves to what they claim was real... N i watch em mingle as if I do not exist in their moment as my mind plays tricks on me... As i drift away in to the wonder of what it's like to have someone be more than a dream... Coming into view I return every so often with a new story to be told of a man that falls short... Damn near rehearsing the scenes time n time again so a chance will come n become the norm... I collapse with the thought of a body that won't change like the faces that have been here n left... As the whispers from the shelves release the intent buried in a secret lil stash in my chest... Never to wind up in the same broken azz feel of collecting dust to be blown away with my life... With my own imaginations feet dangling with those who's tootsies linger to remember what's blind... Playing touchy feely with the scars as I'm unable to collide with the one i face everyday... I kick it with who's found their way behind my eyes to leave me as sight opens to the fade...
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