The Impossible Intangible.

When I was steady,
I told you I was ready,
said, 'I think it's time
we make the move
and leave this place.
Yeah, we'll never look back
or miss a thing
'cause we don't know
what we haven't seen.

Besides, this town's got sticks
in its side and it doesn't know when
to unwind and just lie down.
Oh it'd bury itself if it were allowed.

It has no name, it's just a questioning
blank face bent and lowered
in speculation, doubled-over
on expectation and the unsatisfactory
sight of failure.

So be on your own,
get your fill,
live off of separation
and detachment
until nothing matches anymore,
until every piece of the puzzle
brings you to your knees;
then drags you to wondering
what all this is even here for.

Why it doesn’t quite seem
like the right fit, I don’t know.
You’re just not comfortable
as my skin, I’m trapped in it.
And really, all I’d like to do
is let go.