july 5th, 2014; late night spit-up

[Wavves]

time, passing the present. the breath of life being inhaled and exhaled at the clock's minuscule ticking. the moment being reached and longed for alongside oxygen and internal organs that maintain the body. the moment of moving, growing, aging, aching, turning, and being all that is human; scrambled together to the inexplicable likelihood that things will treat us well. time is not our friend. time is only our mere guide, the sun, the moon: our guides. they pass us in the sky only to remind us of the growth, of the constant changes happening within us and around us. it marks a death date and it marks the date of when things shall be reborn anew. the gravestone of a moment, conceived in actions and treatment that is inhabited by our emotions and physicality. the burn of the last match of denial and self-doubt that creates an entirely altered dimension for ourselves, individually, to find the light at the beginning of each day. a sunrise of opportunity ahead of a hurtful past.