everything has to be new every time,
bone shattering renewal.
whatever happened to fixing broken things?
i knew a girl once who loved me, but i didn't want a broken love
so i gave it away for my mental health.
But my mental health lasts less long than my waiting heart
who gets older and softer and wishes for old things,
things that were imperfect but ... were we really that different?
things are grainy and thoughts disappear.
we all think we want adventure until we run out of bread,
then we want home, and glowing lights and bedships.
so we go back to the river, but its not as bright
and the water shudders not shimmers and there's
no coastline or hillscape to paint.
instead, we go to sleep again and spark a new dream
which flickers and excites us until we wake up
and realise we're back in our cradle with no one to hold.
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