This one I write for fun.
So the thing with this town I can’ts get round without gettin’ down so I gots to get out and it’s not that I’m tired of the places I’ve seen it’s that the places, anymore, don’t see me; backdrop’s the last stop before you start to justify the flop.
But Chaz, rationalize: you’re educated mostly unhated and one of the lucky few with creativity unabated, and you have friends & fam of the kind that undefine this dictionary neighborhood. Long distance in a circle is the worst sort of relationship, son, so why run?
Why? I can try to express my life as a fish, hittin’ the glass of the bowl with no visible toll till my belly rolls up and it’s time to flush, all the while people askin’ what’s the rush? And don’t you care that you’ll be thirsting for air once you break that glass there?
To which I respond: true, I’ll be gasping, looking up at the table I was on– but, for those few moments before… well. You can’t see fish cry but they do want to fly.