You never give me your time.
And im sorry I woke you up at two am in the dawning and you got testing next morning but,
I found my myself in the living room. Sipping on available whiskey that gives me its time.
I started to write a letter but picked the phone up instead to narrate the message.
I know I could write pretty poems that would go into my collection for recitals when im famous for my lines but,
I had to say this right now.
There's no pen or paper. Black journals with galaxies inside of them. Rehearsed lines of rambled minds. Scribbles scrambled up like omelets.
But I didn't call you to discuss mindless gibberish about poetry or eggs.
I just call to figure where's your head, where's your mind cause you never give me time.
To yourself.
And I know you're busy making a living. Working hard. Stay building. Stay grinding for your future children.
But I don't believe in futures. They're just visions. We never get to touch them. But we could touch a meteor flying straight to Earth. Tomorrow. Or they can come and place us all in some fema camps like celebristars rant about until they die. Mysteriously. Or zombies can evolve from their grave and team up with the zombies among us. And demolish our brains. Or we could be saved from Earth by aliens when they come to test out our sanity.
So now i got you up at two am in the morning cause I just had to know why?
How come you never give me your time?
