drag & fall.

by ty

perhaps a few more years would pass, and it’ll still be an unacceptable truth that the one that pulls the trigger isn’t always the one at fault.

there isn’t anything new but the slightly sour scent of daffodils overpowered by hints of silence and freedom, albeit mock. as we all expected, it began from the faint reflections flashing by with messy movements and uncoordinated breaths, and it wasn’t as glamorous as how he transited gracefully from every curve of his spine to catching the beats as easily as breathing – it wasn’t half as comforting as ironically monochrome reveries of having sweaty palms pressed against parquet flooring, neither was it as carefree as worn sneakers against grass.

but it’s a known fact that humans have a natural instinct to take what we’ve got, especially so in a society where it’s a mad scramble towards your goals before its out of stock – we live in a society where dreams run dry and memories aren’t worth much. ultimately we settle for the slightest traces of our juvenile selves because that’s the most of a distraction we can get from buttoned collars and cuffed wrists – and so we indulge in the simplest things, even if it means to watch oneself barely through the panel of windows overlooking another building, even if it means to sweat double, and even if it means that breathing is no longer natural.

and for a split second we’d be happy, and satisfied – but the same downfall gets us everytime.

we always forget to anticipate the drop.

drag & fall – along with the periodic movement of the metal hands across the face of a clock, along with the beats at the end of the song, along with the last abrasion – knees against tiles, passion against responsibility.