Retch. The insistent taste. The smell of burning ideals keeping you in your place. Wretch. The burden. Controlled by nothing but fear, hidden behind this false curtain. Pass it off as nothing more than pain, not accepting the personal growth and gain.
Curved back; like the arch of the sun. So light and pure but still stings like a gun. Fired through black smoke to relieve the built up tension, skin so thin you can see the progression. Bag of twine with fingers interwoven, forever following behind them; all of the ones who were chosen.
Took the polar plunge today for the Special Olympics reppin nothin but @houseofair gear. Thanks to everyone and anyone who donated to help out such a great cause and special thanks to @_lockandkey and Anthony for coming out to see me look like a fool.
Spring is near, but Winter is tangled in your hair; the cold still biting the air. Run your fingers through to take out the imperfection, focus too hard and return for Summer reflection. Barrel into Fall with thoughts of despair, only to find out what you want is the cold; the Winter tangle in your hair.
You sit at that edge of comfort and disbelief,
I’ll wait for your drop from underneath.