Heartbeat
You're my heartbeat. So why does it seem, in situations like these, that the beating's either stopped or is in my throat? With potential to float and flutter by, struggling for steady rhythm with a silent cry. The feeling is dull, not to the brink; it isn't full and the time ticks and slips away from me. It's not a constant blindness, this emptiness leaves, but it's highlighted more than the other seems to be. For a shadow, hopelessness follows... let's put optimism aside, try on realism, a rarity, for size.
Current circumstances given, hypothetically speaking, what if life disagrees with our ways? Swinging and swaying on a rope that continuously frays? Look up towards the sky, bright and deep like my own waters I drown in, and I'm aching for rescue, but choking on air. The breath from you will save me, you always give willingly, even if you have none to spare.
You say my wings are broken but I was never meant to fly; not away, not to anywhere, not like you. You came to me instead. A gift of the present, which I don't regret, but fail to understand. Perhaps I'm not meant to, but it's something I'm not used to and the discomfort and uncertainty fills my lungs. I'm swimming for land as my lungs reject needed oxygen and I'm dead with a pulse at time, heavy and hollow, but do you know? Which way is up, because I can't tell but does it matter if we go together?
Promises are good intentions, but do we even have control? I hope nothing gets the chance to prove this wrong. Grab my shoulders and shake me awake from this feeling. It's not permanent, but I want a cure because this connection is one I can't deny. Why can't there be only one side? The road and the signs aren't like they used to be; like they're supposed to be. Car's swerving and the mirrors show disoriented figures and memories, I can no longer see. It was there a minute ago, flickering frantically, taunting and teasing, speeding towards me.
It's not just this paranoia that has me shredding the evidence, there's a jam but I don't care. Have to rush, have to run and protect because the fear is catching up too fast and the brake's struck and I'm out of gas. Bright eyes, but clouded perception, everything gets diluted and disillusioned. Sleeping off a low, prying for a high in between the cracks and creases of everything left. The melting clocks are melting time and I'm losing it slowly. I'm falling into this and I don't like the sensation, but what more is there and what does it matter?
It's not about me. I can handle this sporadic stabbing that knawls at my insides, twisting my mind with the knowledge I don't know I know but it's in there and it's all in how I use it. Stones ripping and scratching at the truth, broken without a cast and it's swelled to full size and not set to heal. The undertow's here and it is low tide. Things are lessened up but they're still over the top; as high as we once were, as we will be again, where nothing like that can touch us.
Trying for mind over matter and living in the now, but everything lies in the future and it can make it or break it; all or nothing. The second hand and the alarm and the open doors to Wonderland could turn into a nightmare without any permission and I'm afraid to close my eyes and sleep. I lie awake with this feeling settling in and clinging to my insides, coating them in something thick that hardens. Paper mache. A statue, a binding, a bookmark at the wrong place; something doesn't feel right, but I'm not sure when it started and I don't know where to go.
It's back, somewhere way back there, and it's dark and I'm scared and no one will come with me. A never ending card game and my cards just don't add up. This isn't something to fold on, but what if it's one big bluff? I'm not a natural skeptic; in fact I'm pretty open-minded. But everyone opens their mouth and it's just beating after beating and I'm not sure what to think. Stay illogical because it comes naturally and nothing comes easy anymore. In the absence of happiness, apathy is muse, but it doesn't stop the build up and the soreness of these bruises.
Avoiding it like drug users avoid rehab is no solution, but no one has the answers anyway. Handing out another raincheck; push a little further, past the limit of even my own tolerance. I would never put up with this. I can't explain it and I'm not going to try. Even though on a regular basis, I make that become a lie. Energy's so depleted, and what's done is done but nothing's ever completed. Waiting through this drought with a dry tongue, these clouds always have a delayed rain. No lifejacket for the flood, but it's nothing new and it's not from crying this time. The river reached her limit, but I'll never reach mine. You're my heartbeat. Can you feel it losing consciousness?
Current circumstances given, hypothetically speaking, what if life disagrees with our ways? Swinging and swaying on a rope that continuously frays? Look up towards the sky, bright and deep like my own waters I drown in, and I'm aching for rescue, but choking on air. The breath from you will save me, you always give willingly, even if you have none to spare.
You say my wings are broken but I was never meant to fly; not away, not to anywhere, not like you. You came to me instead. A gift of the present, which I don't regret, but fail to understand. Perhaps I'm not meant to, but it's something I'm not used to and the discomfort and uncertainty fills my lungs. I'm swimming for land as my lungs reject needed oxygen and I'm dead with a pulse at time, heavy and hollow, but do you know? Which way is up, because I can't tell but does it matter if we go together?
Promises are good intentions, but do we even have control? I hope nothing gets the chance to prove this wrong. Grab my shoulders and shake me awake from this feeling. It's not permanent, but I want a cure because this connection is one I can't deny. Why can't there be only one side? The road and the signs aren't like they used to be; like they're supposed to be. Car's swerving and the mirrors show disoriented figures and memories, I can no longer see. It was there a minute ago, flickering frantically, taunting and teasing, speeding towards me.
It's not just this paranoia that has me shredding the evidence, there's a jam but I don't care. Have to rush, have to run and protect because the fear is catching up too fast and the brake's struck and I'm out of gas. Bright eyes, but clouded perception, everything gets diluted and disillusioned. Sleeping off a low, prying for a high in between the cracks and creases of everything left. The melting clocks are melting time and I'm losing it slowly. I'm falling into this and I don't like the sensation, but what more is there and what does it matter?
It's not about me. I can handle this sporadic stabbing that knawls at my insides, twisting my mind with the knowledge I don't know I know but it's in there and it's all in how I use it. Stones ripping and scratching at the truth, broken without a cast and it's swelled to full size and not set to heal. The undertow's here and it is low tide. Things are lessened up but they're still over the top; as high as we once were, as we will be again, where nothing like that can touch us.
Trying for mind over matter and living in the now, but everything lies in the future and it can make it or break it; all or nothing. The second hand and the alarm and the open doors to Wonderland could turn into a nightmare without any permission and I'm afraid to close my eyes and sleep. I lie awake with this feeling settling in and clinging to my insides, coating them in something thick that hardens. Paper mache. A statue, a binding, a bookmark at the wrong place; something doesn't feel right, but I'm not sure when it started and I don't know where to go.
It's back, somewhere way back there, and it's dark and I'm scared and no one will come with me. A never ending card game and my cards just don't add up. This isn't something to fold on, but what if it's one big bluff? I'm not a natural skeptic; in fact I'm pretty open-minded. But everyone opens their mouth and it's just beating after beating and I'm not sure what to think. Stay illogical because it comes naturally and nothing comes easy anymore. In the absence of happiness, apathy is muse, but it doesn't stop the build up and the soreness of these bruises.
Avoiding it like drug users avoid rehab is no solution, but no one has the answers anyway. Handing out another raincheck; push a little further, past the limit of even my own tolerance. I would never put up with this. I can't explain it and I'm not going to try. Even though on a regular basis, I make that become a lie. Energy's so depleted, and what's done is done but nothing's ever completed. Waiting through this drought with a dry tongue, these clouds always have a delayed rain. No lifejacket for the flood, but it's nothing new and it's not from crying this time. The river reached her limit, but I'll never reach mine. You're my heartbeat. Can you feel it losing consciousness?