Sometimes I just want to sit somewhere else alone
and stare at the outer reaches of my place and beyond
while thinking to lose myself for a bit of time
until the raging storm within me chills out
I want to rest in a strip of illusion
with nothing in my pocket nor holding a can of beer
I guess those things won’t ever send me to fairytales and magic
because every whip of crusty weather to my bare bones
and every trickle of sad emotions stirring in my blood
it peters out my words and existence
and makes my lips and skin dusty and humdrum
the more I stay in one place seems everything that’s enclosed into my little space becomes difficult to fathom
as if either of them were made of complex matters
or written in ancient runic alphabets
And so do my actions towards others souls,
which in their minds are seem to be expressed in morse code
but the girl who lives within me
pushes me to take a leap
and her voice rustling into my ears
she’s telling me to bravely walk along the twisted and jumble roads of far away
because onto her words that’s the only way to fix myself
