it’s coming to fruition, the ion of the fruit, the fruitfulness of a suit, the way it looks, what it is and what it seems to be, the difference in it all, the pleasant passing of what seemingly was, but time does tell, plagiarizing fate and hoping you do well. it really is a hard sell, putting things into places they don’t fit, heating up the pieces for the mold, placing a new tag on something that’s old, it’s all folding in, the place we’re meant to be and where we think we should begin, it’s thin, flying with a paper tail fin, it’s bound to crash, but we outlast, life is the outcast, but we’re not in control, we’re the passenger of life, so when it’s cold it’s cold, nothing to do but involve yourself in what you got, get what you can, leave the rest behind, move on to what is there, don’t take nothing as a sign, sign on to life, smile, laugh live, avoid the strife, avoid painting stripes for the pedestrian. you’re riding life like an equestrian, taking on hope with a cringe, give it a chance, if it plays the right note, your heart can dance, if you’re hanging on a rope, pull yourself up and cope, fill up the holes with what’s always been around, the things not floating will inevitably drown, don’t let someone else’s life get you down ruin your memories of a town, and change the way you feel about anything at all, that one song you heard becomes the subject of harsh words, the pointless potent poise we assign to the reminder of the past, but that too shall pass, the mass of emotion, the singled out fish we thought was the only in the ocean, the notion that when we’re with someone, we’re supposed to be, this is closure, this kind of love is the poser of the actual thing. get used to your immediacy, sideline complacency, let the experiences you claim to be mistakes be benchwarmers for what you’re meant be. hope for what you want to see, but don’t be blind to reality, hold on to the finality of being, make you’re led by hope, but you follow what you’re seeing.