the shape, my god, the shape.

so here, after all those months. big eyes and $$$ (dollar signs). for all the fucking life of me i could throw my body right out to the wolves. i've heard them out in those woods from the very day i moved my bags into this house. they wait, their baited breath hanging on the air like fog lifting from the hills. those same hills that line the way all the way to your house. But here they wait. but either way, i've been saying the same things for each night into the dark and thinking, "yeah, here is exactly how it goes, i've got it". But i guess now i just feel it like the weather pounding even with that fucking sun beaming in and keeping me from sleep. i guess, when you get up close to it, what i'm really saying is, I just feel like everything else is just periphery. laying out on the highway. all those big ideas. those roads that stretch the length of all my insides. be it: 74 to 275 to 70 to an idea of the past or 74 to 75 to 471 to the idea of you. you.