Pocketed Time (7/2017)

Blue line finds me dangling near Division.
Why’d they look at me?
I leave after exploring Friday’s leaves.
It was written on a train.
Three stops ‘til madness.
A city sliding by.
Shadows get ready to soak up the sky.

Rewind. You and I were on a mission.
We were listening.
We made up names we dreamed they would believe.
We were hidden in the rain.
We couldn’t find us.
Meaning became bent.
We pocketed time we could have spent.

We don’t know what you’re up to.
How do you not see the wind?
If I had anything, I’d do everything.
All the time. Anything.
It’d all be easier.

What was the last thing that you learned?
What was the last sound that you heard?
Hide inside. Don’t ever face it.
Move forward, faces. Erase us.

They lie, singing books will bring on wisdom.
Antagonizing me.
Come down. It’s not a dream if we believe.
We’re all waiting on a plane.
Take me to that place.
The times we won’t forget
that haven’t even happened yet.

What’s the last sound that you heard?
What’s the last sound that you heard?