Sometimes, I like to imagine that you think about what you are about to say to me as much as I think about what I am going to say to you and sometimes, I like to imagine how it would feel to see the sunrise trickle down your body after it raced here just to be with you, other times I like to imagine a world in which I stop daydreaming and start living this out in your arms, then I remember the way my speech buckles when I put too much stress on it and I go back to my daydreams because these night times are getting harder to put to rest with you keeping my mind so preoccupied. Though most of the time I'm just lookin into this trying to add another line or two, silently soaring through these letters and all the weight they leave behind, quietly displacing this white with this absence of light to fill up your sight and make your thoughts spell this out, word by word I am sneaking into your eyes fighting for the focus of your fragile attention.
Are you there? Sometimes I wonder this, and then I tell myself "Stop staring at that lady's feet" and sort of shake my head and blink to make it seem like I was just in deep thought and not creepin on someone that I will not make eye contact with ever again. Wherever I was going with that, here I am and I am still just busy behind these paragraphs, that began with no purpose, not even to present these pointless phrases: it will never be possible for me to ever bind to any plan for today is not about to go your way and your maps are already eroding into obsolete, the river doesn't know what direction it will be flowin, it just goes with where it's goin, and it still always manages to get to where it's most at home.
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