and tonight, I choose to dream.
with wax coats of broken hopes. it's all about.
[believing]

when walking these streets is too stressful
to relieve. I'm left waking at 2 am with bloody sleeves
still wondering where my heart dropped. I'm sure
the five second rule doesn't apply
to blood clots and sloppy breaks in the beats.

because rhythm is what it's all about.

and when I dance on street corners.
guitar case in the rain. the coins speaking sparks
just big enough to catch the eye. I'm always asking the stars
if they're crying for a purpose. or
if these teardrops are letters written from
the sun. so we don't forget it
when the lights are out.

so sometimes I speak in symphonies.
syllables like paintbrushes. and the insides of my eyelids
they're still telling stories I wish I could put to words.
but sometimes. the dream is mightier than the pen
I puncture my paper with.

so please me in the sense that life is based.
on innocence.

and tonight. I choose to be.
so preach on. is what they'll scream. but being is believing
and I rest easily amused.

because I'm done dreaming.


this existence.
it's deceiving.

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