Nobody waters their weeds, expect me.
I seem to sing their praises like I’m showering in an otherwise empty house.
In a world full of slippery fingers, I hold a candle to all of your maybes.
I sink your truths like a stone.
I'm a teetotaler sipping life’s more intoxicating parts.
I shouldn't though.
The banks of every river mean to taunt me like a playground bully.
They tell me I’ll do great things.
They’re helium. Hot air.
Aspirations pluck me from the earth’s bed and make for the clouds….
Only for my waking moment to arrive as I plummet back from whence I came.