Immobilized

I question you more than I think of you
Sweet home Chicago
The veins in your neck spiral out of control like a car wreck
Depth is for the empty
And Walt Whitman wants you to go outside
But so little of what I feel has to do with where I am
Depth is for the empty

I'm not exactly sure why I'm writing this
I guess a part of me wants to be convinced that I'm wrong
But I think I've genuinely become immobilized
By the dilemma posed in the body of this note



Credits
Writer(s): Lex Treefrog
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