The summer wind from June onward shifts

The sewing needle from an old box, free CD-R at the car-boot sale, some paint from when I was twelve
Cut up tight harware, wood glue, the cheapest stylus on the market, the beads at the bottom of a drawer
And whatever's between my hands

Still, I miss having someone to fall asleep next to with TV lights, open windows and a lit-up blunt
Something's shifted but will it bring about the social life I've been so severely lacking
I don't really know what to do with myself

My regrets pile up; I used to bury them, I allow them to bloom and flourish these days
These days, my head and heart feel lighter; I've been busy catching up with the past years
The past years filled me with a slow-acting poison; romance has groomed me, and loneliness kills
Kills me even if I heal, but doing my best has me taking another step closer to who I want to be
Be surrounded by art as it was meant to; there's no perfect occasion to enact a vision
Visions you're waiting on are entrapping aspirations; lying to yourself about your own ideas
Ideas that I could never turn into reality, too busy overthinking and fantasising of a better moment
A better moment that doesn't exist; one that will have us forever looking up to who we're not
Who we're not yet who we could be if only we let go of those attempts at refining before even creating raw
Creating raw, creating true, the punk nested in creativity through garage and awkwardness

I'm done with excuses of missing feelings
I'm done with chasing ideas of lonely dillings
I've put myself between my own hands