i never knew concrete could bend so easily.
this spirit, born of asphalt,
fed off of revolution,
now lingers...
like the smell of forgotten yesterdays.
broken promises.
unfulfilled expectations.
like sometimes you gotta go through hell to feel closer to god.
like sometimes you have to act up to be forgotten.
sometimes i feel like he wears the world on his shoulders
as if regret is en vogue.
like purple hearts are his color.
most days you can find him trying to be lost.
running like the hell he wakes up in.
see, his nightmares still haunt him.
still find a way to maraud themselves between the cracks in his concrete smile.
he knows his angles.
knows which faces go with which hat.
he feels like he's playing understudy
and can't grasp the motivation.
trace his footsteps and see the lives he's lived,
the people he can't seem to be...
and if you listen closely...
you can hear his clock ticking
waiting to be saved.
drowning in a sea of others just like his ass
that don't care to do better.
this is about choices.
like this is not all that he's bent for.
like he gives up too god damn easy.
like his heart has never known affection.
sometimes i feel like he says "i love you's"
just to hear the words.
kicks himself just to know that he is alive,
just to feel something.
all he's got is his poetry.
his name.
he's holding on to the little bit of sanity he has left,
the little bit of foundation that is still there.
he can't seem to hoist himself over his insecurities.
like he floods your memories with tears.
like most great stories go untold.
he's screaming.
silently singing his soliloquy.
dancing on the verge of never.
i feel like he's nineteen, wearing eternity badly.
waiting to feel that real thing.
seismically surrendering to the instability that is him.
realizing that gods and angels have blindspots too.
like sometimes i hate him.
because i see too god damn much of myself in his tears.
like the time we layed in the street making asphalt angels.
like wanting to fix him
like i want to give him some life
but i know he doesn't need it.
i ain't never been a fucking martyr.
never been bigger than myself.
i can't seem to crack my concrete smile,
something he does a hell of a lot better than me.
i just want him to know he's bigger than this.