I smoke myself to sleep, so I can't remember deranged dreams involving you and the future. And how I'm not involved in it at all.
I poured concrete over these memories.
I figured 'what in this world could f*cking cause me to change?'
I hit the bottom of this pyramid that you buried my focus in. And the curse you left behind keeps me awake most nights.
A derelict disguise. You made disheveled bonds to emulate connection felt to correlate to you, my strongest source of faith.
I poured gasoline over these memories.
I figured 'F*ck feeling achored onto something I can't change.'
The bottom tier has left me nowhere near the space I'd like to someday fill.
But I know I'll get there.
Patiently waiting for us to lose touch, and someday can't come soon enough.