thrive on the substance
that clouds creative impulse, 
that lacks the clutch
of a friendly reminder...
this is always going too far.
but we're melting our clean
with a dirt that won't
even wipe off the windshield,
frozen spells that last for days.
and wait, 
cause we could finally walk away
if only you'd capture time
and run with me.
but the streets sink 
and shattered glass enters our path,
this is really our last chance.