Fresh air makes sense.
The only thing that makes any sense anymore, is the way this song is carving my heart into a glowing ember. The only thing that makes sense anymore is the marking the previous inhabitant of this room left on the ceiling, so strange, a shape reminding of nothing that could possibly have been stuck to a wall yet so softly painted over, just, perfect.
The only thing that makes any sense anymore, is the way this song is carving my heart into a glowing ember. The only thing that makes sense anymore is the marking the previous inhabitant of this room left on the ceiling, so strange, a shape reminding of nothing that could possibly have been stuck to a wall yet so softly painted over, just, perfect.
Those things make sense.
The way routine and the unimaginable are battling in my head and heart, does not make sense. Duty, things you should be doing, just become like trudging through the quickly drying mud. My heart pushing time forwards, nothing else just my heart, beating to keep it going; where to?
-The top of the world of course.
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