Recursive

This is waking up and knowing nothing holds me back, it's crazy. The fact that I can be whatever I want, but know that it won’t save me from being the things I've chosen before. Tide in or out doesn't mean it’s not the same shore that we've been washed up on before. Consistently. Since learning the word love. We made it a North Star we could never take our eyes off of. Fixed on that lofty promise, we walked forward unthinking into neck deep pools of water, we're sinking into thoughts projecting forward across what might choose to come up next. They tell you tomorrow is another day as if it yields some difference. I won't write off a calendar in the same way I did to lust. You don't need me to say we don't know tomorrow, and that won't change with trust. We drink to our future and chase it with foresight, thought blurred with tired eyes and the dark of the night. But somewhere out there, you know there's a sunrise. Run towards it pretending it’s just there for your eyes. Let it shut up the tongue and the thoughts trailing off it. Falling to the skin of the world, knowing full well we’re atop it