Everything made perfect sense as I sat in the car listening to every word, but coming up with none of my own.
Sometimes it just feels better to soak every inch of pain and truth through your bones.
I guess that’s how you learn. Some sick way of knowing that you’re still alive.




And I tasted everything today as the scrape of leaves raped the ground with color.
The railroad tracks never looked so straight.
And every word never dropped so perfectly.
Life couldn’t make more sense.




With my hair a mess and clouds dropping in over my eyes
I couldn’t make the rain fall harder than it did earlier that day.
And as I felt like there was so much more to know.
I couldn’t soak anything else in.




I smile about the simple things in life.
But continue to make my life so complex.
Inch my way around the easy parts just to figure out the hardest parts first.
I never could explain why I always felt so backwards.




Why I make myself so intentionally miserable.
&.
Why I stare from above at falling leaves, wishing I could fall as gracefully.




I dig myself through a hole to reach the abyss of myself.
Just so I can tear through the stitches over and over again.
Convincing myself I’ll make it to the top.
Only to realize everything once I get there.




And I haven’t been getting any farther lately.
But I swear today I felt like I was in the clouds.



Like I saw everything.




And those sudden realizations come more frequently when you’re in the middle of what’s left unsaid and what you wish was never said at all.
And I’m not regretting anything, just breaking down trying to go back to the past to answer everything left after the commas.
You never did dot your I’s and cross your T’s.




It’s a wonder I feel so fucked.




And sometimes I wish I could shut off, constantly repeating the same words in my head.
I’ve malfunctioned years ago and I’m not sure how I can change the tape now.
I’m stuck constantly between the bed sheets curled up trying to place myself in the present.
& Everything is changing, while I’m in a constant feeling.




That constant feeling where someone’s plucked your wings.
Before you even learned to fly.



And your lips are still moving but I’m already lost at your second sentence.
I’m staring at the river and everything that always was inspiring.
Trying to write everything down in my head and remember.



And although everything seemed so imperfect.
Everything made perfect sense.





& At the end of it all.







I saw nothing but everything.

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