you said you lost hope, and because of pop music, you'd wish that airplanes were shooting stars. so, why not rip and fold 33 planes for you to wish on?
someone once told me i was in the business of hope - i always thought that a curious statement. i mean i have an old leather suitcase that's big enough to hold the important stuff, but i never thought of myself as much of a salesman.
i'd give you the shirt off my back, shivering my way home, cycling through city streets never asking for anything in return except the quiet understanding that you knew where you belonged. i suppose it's a funny thing to ask for in exchange but sometimes falling asleep in an empty bed cradled in the comfort of knowing is enough to keep ya warm.
i've begged the questions tangled in my grey matter, awaiting silent answers. i've gotten better at making up stories to occupy my mind and keep my trains of thoughts on their rails. i make up fairy tale endings hidden in treetops disguised as roof tops.