Goodbye to another word for heart.

Forget it.

If you wait for it it won't come.

Because silver walls of slivered halls won't make you come.

I'm leaving on wings while the weekend comes.

Leaving you all behind while your sunset runs.

Ten days have gone, with a few still trickling in. I've yet to really enjoy my home stay, minus a few chuckles shared with good friends. I'm leaving it behind, like a water-stained pictures full of mysterious blots of something else I've forgotten. It's misty outside and the wet sticks to my skin, even indoors. I can't help but notice that words have become shelled out somewhat and that I seem to be stuck in somewhat of a purgatorious (is that a word) state where nothing is beautiful yet everything could be brilliant if I just let the slits in my eyes breathe a little bit.

All I hear are flaws when I sing.

All I need is sleep.
Fuck the late night mornings.
I'm going to bed now.
Maybe you'll remember in the morning.