Proof…

It all looks pretty but what’s it worth? Maybe I haven’t crossed over or possibly I have and retreated back to a better sense of norm. Who cares either way? What if I can’t feel anything from the depths of my core? Will it be me that puns me from my figurative hell? Or someone else to revive me to remind me I’m just a fool as if I’m willing to dive in to eventually drown. Is it safer here in my train if thought by repeating fuck them all? It seems they’re all the same so why entertain a smile that’ll fade in time’s lost memory as I’m left to frown? Serious topics call for answers no one is capable of giving straight. Everyone’s in a moment until it passes memories down along the way. So if it’s relatable, why be fake? Hi, bye. That was sweet, leave me alone. Don’t fight the cause. Just delete me from your dreams. It’s in the feel of moving on that matters the most. New is always greater than the feel of something real. If I’m on this side and you’re over there wanting me to be a silhouette of all things. What makes you believe I’m into the confusion that’ll crawl upon your face once I’m not your type of comforting feel? I’m one man lingering bcuz it’s peaceful as fuck. Without emotions poking at my heart for a brief second before it’s trying to figure life out. Tell me, what is it you want from me? Let’s come to terms of the mere sound. Listen you lips to the movement it’ll take to tell the truth. Vaginal exposure isn’t enough but feelings being in the way of my sanity living as my proof…