lapse

a fringe of affairs with the tangent of your consistent, concubous, bourgeois siphoning my strenuos misconstrued inuedo. a victim to the denounced oddity of your past and present modernized inaguration. opened into the fragile silph of the missing horizon .Our eyes so readily fill the blank spaces with numbers and frivilou excess intently scaling the surface of our otherwise unpricked pores. quality frowns put up against our closed mouths show the mask of hiding unhappyness with malcontent. involuntarily rendering the slight concussed breaths, you heave in and out of your cold over exhaled lungs empty and suffering with brevity. the archetype that strains argument, the levity that tears and misses the threshold of our uncontested sentiment. ripping the appendages, buying our souls the time to cringe under the light of the constellations. I haven't kissed her in too long. those eyes, shaking the inside of my head, rattling the very outline of my enigma... caressing my charisma, does that still count for the broken hour glasses we shatter on the cold dirt we walk on? on a whim, I could just free this excess, and watch it suck the life out of me and create an adversary worth my distaste, for that in everything I saw, we once saw ourselves frozen in it. now with bare knuckled bruises, and blood underneath our fingertips, we'll shred away any sense of the real, and stick to our echoed past. loving, you was living. living, was perseverance, patience, in hopes that I'll still be here. when you turn back around. chance is just my character.
I'm just not ready for it yet.