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Treehouses
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3Am
it's getting too late
for you to go home
i'm running on empty but there's nowhere else to go
and you thank me for biding my time
i'm holding my tongue
what was i meant to say
it's getting too late
for you to go home
i'm running on empty but there's nowhere else to go
but i promised that i'd be a good host
my heart is beating just loud enough for me to notice it
listening never speaking but taking in the sound
it's like i'm searching
my eyes are slow and dry
they itch each day like i'm resetting
i'm getting more tired
i don't fear sleep anymore
it's welcome now
i knew what i was doing i tell myself
it's my choice
confusion forgave me for chewing my cheeks
and thankfully choosing to and asking to
and lying out to everyone by lying down and keeping my jacket on despite the fact that it was far too hot to
confusion forgave me for chewing my cheeks
you woke me up at three o'clock
coughing up the awkwardness
and wanting you to leave
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(waiting out the storms day by day
feeling like spinning passivity beckons
paving the way to fictitious bliss
wishing i was somewhere else and wanting you to leave)
it's like i could slide off the ground again
either i'm rotating or the earth is
again counting seconds
rampant self-awareness killing any escape
and writing about someone else
not depending on them or their friends for motivation
my formulaic destruction
now it's almost over i might have broken out
not empty anymore
rediscovering colours and familiar sensations
memories re-imagined
or the discovery
of lies my eyes are telling
won't let me return
anymore
i move further away from you
each step that i take
(and thankfully choosing to and asking to)
(you woke me up at three o'clock)
(it's getting too late)
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