fake empire

somedays it feels like we're just pretending. barely floating through the streets, buried in these shiny cities. in these empires so everlong. evergrasping. everywhere.

somedays we're all just bad news. ballads filling up the air between us. cordially corralling around us. smothering us to smithereens. it's times like these i never know just what to say. i never have to say a lot to decimate the planks i sometimes find myself walking upon.

the worst news is when we both know i won't be seeing you. plans can account for nothing. plans; they never work out the way we map them to. i don't think it's a lesson i'll ever fully grasp. my plans still include you. but i'm deluded and overwhelmed by it. fingerprints in folders, we record our histories so daily.

somedays it feels like we're just pretending. especially in this thin, cold air.

i am happy, but unresolved. aren't we all?