so you're getting good at fastening the blinders, ignoring the junk. honey, you've no time to waste on silliness. where's the sense in staying right? you're not even tired anymore. you just know enough to pack it all up and set it aside. sometimes blackness sets fire to itself for no other reason than to watch something burn. not even pity can patch up that hole.

so you're getting comfortable as pliable as a worn leather chair, letting the day's junk drain from where ever and slow. you know how to find that feeling, that moment of when the sun sets in mid-july, twilight sky, and ever sax mellow. has taken a long time to realize there's nothing out there that's better than in here.

today you're thinking they're thinking the grass is greener right here.