thoughts.

music: death cab for cutie- transatlanticism


looking back on all the time i wasted thinking of the future here in this room alone with expectation i find it hard sometimes to leave it. blown here and there with the wilted leaves of yesterday's phosphorescent foliage, a life losing its neon. i am needed so i'm told but what do i need? this question follows me through the urban jungle as i go to drown myself in afterthoughts.