BrainpanSonata

Big Bay Windows The house across the street has these big bay windows. You can look in and see just about everything in the living room. Absolutely no semblance of privacy, but that doesn't seem to bother the guy over there. I've seen him enough times that I know his routine by heart. Every day like clockwork, the same thing over and over. Four steps forward. Stop. Touch the mantle. Look towards the wall. Look towards the door. Start talking. Three more steps forward. Big gesture. More talking. More gestures. Stop talking. Five steps back really fast. Fall back and out of sight. Done for the day. Every day at the same time, he

Pick me up And break me down Your love is mine But I'll never deserve it And if I railed Against our fate And thus destroyed the world It would be worth it We know every piece Of me is yours But exactly for how long We can't define It's real but fading All too fast How I wish for a way I could freeze time And I would stop the world If it meant one more moment with you Burn down every bridge All I need is you and me I'd put the sun on ice I would do everything in my power But I'm weak and resigned And I don't have such bravery Knock me down And prop me up Your hate is mine Or that's how it should be For every second

It's a canvas duffle suitcase packed to bursting, Filled up with everything you need and a few things you probably don't. It's getting your second medication refilled alongside your first, Because it's better to be prepared than to be kicking yourself later. It's forty dollars withdrawn from your account and tucked into your purse, Which you promise yourself will be for emergencies only. It's packing your own shampoo, deodorant, and toothbrush, And wondering if they'll mind you borrowing their hairbrush. It's hoping the dog will be fine while you're away, And knowing the cats will be, more or less. It's charging your iPod, cellphone

look at this town- feels like it's dying the map's boundaries are shrinking smaller each and every day and each "For Sale" sign on each lawn each failing business that's withdrawn they are all omens and I don't like what these omens have to say the skies are gray as they have always ever been it's just as if our world's locked up in quarantine if we were rats we would have all jumped ship by now instead we wait and hope we'll make it through somehow look at the world- feels like it's dying scrambling to undo our damage to the land, water, and air meanwhile the planet's overlords polish their dead's Darwin Awards Why do they e