Persistent Measures Consistency

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The hot air balloons are making their oh-nine debut. Spring must be abroad. Send me to the (fresh) outdoors, without the clouded smoke and detrimental wars. Keep me on the floor. It's almost time- and I've been waiting far too long for that drought to end in a mystery land of constant change. They call it consistency; I call it unheard of misery. The days are growing longer and I'm beginning to feel too painful to keep up in our game of "you vs. me." And damnit, you're still winning (me over). She keeps reminding me to pull my life together or I'm gonna lost it all at once. Grab it by the collar and go. Run for something other than the pills or that boy you see in your dreams. Take a midnight drive down a side street to feel a little more dangerous or even frightened by the new scenery. Putting the keys in the ignition is like starting over in a new year - everyone fakes it, but no one makes it past 7th street unless they're being paid in something tiny and round, and by this - I don't mean a coin. The past is put into effect with my hands around my neck, and I'm being held by my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, as He follows me down my path of self-destruction. My body's on self-destruct and I'm not sure why, but I know we explode in 2012- with fear and excitement, but don't call me a liar if neither is in place for I'm already falling behind and it's just round two of this phase. Looking around the same place, I realize the same faces decorate the walls and hidden spaces. Nothing's changed in over a decade and I'm still wondering, "Why can't we just get paid?" And then I realize, living life isn't a job I've chosen, but a gift I've been given and I'm hanging on by the chain that reflects my ideals in this three-way mirror to distract me from the darkened pupils and glassed over expressions. Hold me up in a world of pain, take me towards the planes/plains and see if we land in a new destination.