"Who's going to cast the first stone? Who's gonna reset the bone?" Less pushing and more of what seems like a subtle pull backward, too many thoughts and lines off the course I need to follow-metaphors mimic the real, they lack the separation I need, too close for comfort, literally.
When the few good things get eclipsed by the too bright light of reality it all makes less sense, I want more clarity, not less, more direction- less loss. The darkness warms, instead of functioning in the bright light of day the shadows are more comfortable, either side, they're equally warm, get it right, it all feels that much better. Wrapping myself in the layers of wool and rubber, my days get longer, sleep becomes a more valuable commodity, more than heat, more than tires, more than everything. It's never enough to quiet the head's constant stream of useless shit. Push through it, then pulled backwards, a smile sneaks across my face as I know I get my chance to shut it all out.