I smoke myself to sleep, so I can't remember deranged dreams involving you and the future. And how I'm not involved in it at all.

I poured concrete over these memories.

I figured 'what in this world could fucking cause me to change?'

I hit the bottom of this pyramid that you buried my focus in. And the curse you left behind keeps me awake most nights.

A derelict disguise. You made disheveled bonds to emulate connection felt to correlate to you, my strongest source of faith.

I poured gasoline over these memories.

I figured 'Fuck feeling achored onto something I can't change.'

The bottom tier has left me nowhere near the space I'd like to someday fill.

But I know I'll get there.

Patiently waiting for us to lose touch, and someday can't come soon enough.