Rolled Up

We let it all fall before we let the walls come crumbling down. When, then, they go right back up on repeat though the words sounded terrible and now it's such an original song that could be so beautiful. But she spoke about the facade that the pretties put up and I couldn't help but relate to the ugly side of that. And you blamed me for my memory while yours seems extinguished to all I deserve. She was derogatory for deleting the doormat. I was derogatory for ending up on the floor where I pushed you to her and I should've just let her suck you in. I thought our roles were reversed, I'd love to see the ending of you two, blindly in the same roles. And how you'd both get so screwed up and miss out on the rolling of the mat.

J.

Locker

Days blurring together and you're running after them. The packs of M&Ms are a specific number and it's simply insignificant altogether. The smiles and hellos make no difference and the effects of it all seem catastrophic in tiny ways that almost erupt as a volcano. The scissors almost stab the things you want the most while the OCD and duller things screw up the almost material thing that you've worked the most on. The stress isn't what they think it is. The gorgeous eyes, he got right but the emotions behind them, he doesn't have a clue about. The pressure in the head seems sharply constant and constantly dull. The anger seems psychotic and the bottle seems so weak. The little things are the biggest yet somehow the most irrelevant. You walk the ground and fly the sky but you're absolutely nowhere in between. So many big places you can choose to go, yet your choices are infinitely limited. The faces and places they consist of let you down constantly and the only sort of security seems to be an unfair small box where they say locks are required but there are ways around it...

J.