empty inside,

full of anti-climax,

he glances at a past littered with depreciating memories,

each foundation has been repoured, yet none has ever set, still standing, but lacking the support to be complete.

strain will cause this man to buckle, an easy life uprooted by love and misunderstanding,

plagued by insecurity and a desire to be what he isn't, even if he dreams.

nothing makes sense without a motive, comfort is not a given for happiness, all is obsolete without pride and cause.

the direction has always been away but never to,


i need to be still.