Monday, February 3, 2014


Moving as slow as tar is still moving.

Holding on to those moments until my knuckles turn white.
Who knew such power could live in a glance.
Those tiny moments are what I live for.

The taste that makes you glad you're alive.
The walls are caving in from the pressure of my mind.
Maybe you are the one that can relieve that pressure.
Maybe I can save myself.
We can let those demons play instead of destroying ourselves.
I won't be consumed any longer.
This is our chance. We are the lucky ones.