kickinglovers

Safe as houses, a mithering idiot stance; projecting as a hologram up on the bedroom wall. those walls we wrote our memories on,painted over by the landlord. Neither here nor there, can't be found in the cupboard or in my hair.. my hair looks like an accident scene, my heart flat as a trampled field. Where do we go (my lovely?). Half hearted, waste of time, waste of space. Taking off into bananarama land when i'm cloudy as a cuckoos nest. Sit me down to the beating of your heart and i'll listen.. Five hours later.. "what am I listening for?". No, I don't know either..


I leave because leaving is my nature. I left abruptly because it feels right in every situation right now. Some control. A diverson from what you suspect will be my actions. Difficult to make conversation with: yes. Quiet, reserved, thoughtful, brooding; yes. Too many words bubbling under the surface, there is little sense to be made. They arent spoken to understand. We aren't here to be concerned. And no matter how tall we make ourselves, nothing will prepare for the fall.
I am considering a time out next week. From everything.
I wonder if I will come back.