When you couldn’t be it
(rapt in my time running from age)
It was killing time committing vicious strides .
Unto the scene .
What could have bested you my friend ?
What could have been ?
You always seemed so in control .
You’re way too far, towards the mark .
You don’t seem in a state .
You’ve gone way too far .
You can’t see it’s a mess .
(with those eyes)
Not if you were the last one in this blurry life .
In a sea of spite .
Rancored by something , but nothing would fight with your mind . . . just consequence .
It’s just like you to have been that night’s scene .
She kids you just like the last one who was running down strange roads to us .
I keep on saying I’ll come and find it .
The ripest way to say it but who’s kidding who ?
It’s the ripe in life that makes her neck connect to circumstantial instances I’ve lost inside a coma .
See if you can change the way I feel about it without running away .
Her neck connects to circumstantial explorations into time less your decisions to continue .
Still you venture into stranger worlds .