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Summer is merely creeping,

But I’ve been pulling back the shades, I can almost see it

Ready to take Spring by the collar, and pull the footing out from underneath it.

Don’t Fall before it slips, Winter will be around soon enough to clean up.

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Dating like I’m out here, running from love.

Skirting commitment?

Okay, sure, I admit it.

Easier than risking it.

Okay, okay, I admit it.


Without a sense of a future,

Why bring someone else in to risk it?

Why waste a womans time by promising commitment?

Would never get what she deserves from me,

Okay, okay, I admit it.


Know it would hurt her.

Know I don’t deserve her.

Needs someone who will put her first.

They can unwrap each others worlds.

Okay, okay, I admit it.


Got an inability to provide,

For a partner in my life.

No clue what to do with a commitment,

Okay? Okay, I admit it.


Sometimes just need some attention,

A physical kind of friendship.

No reason to end it when we both benefit.

Okay? Let’s admit it.


Running from love, and dating to feel young,

It keeps me limited,

But it keeps me timid,

And boy, do I need it.

Okay, I admit it.

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Can’t we just learn to all love OR hate each other?

Really, hate is such a strong word.

Maybe we could all be indifferent and just entirely avoid each other.

Sink into our own bubbles.



Coming from Minnesota, a concept like that seems so rude.

So anti “nice”.

Can’t even drive away without a quick chat and wave to a neighbor.

I don’t give a damn.

But fuck, dude. It’s so ingrained in us.

The customary Minnesota good-bye.

Learning to replace is with the quick, out the back-door, Irish good-bye, cause I gotta go.

Got somewhere else to be.

And there’s nothing wrong with stepping outside of your states restraints.

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Please realize it.

Ain’t gotta say it no clearer.

You’re not what I want.

Your call’s coming it,

I just keep pretending not to hear it.

See your name, of course.

Leave it alone.

Quit beating this dead horse.

I’m no ones, definitely not yours.

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Happy Birthday, pops.

Miss you buddy.

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These pages won’t fill themselves,

Dust is filling up the shelves.

Notebooks filled with past scribbles,

Filling them all felt so simple.

Writing’s not the problem.

Real problem is how often.

Need to vacate for a day.

Breathe fresh air far away.

Seclude myself into a sea of trees.

Get in touch with what touches my feet.

Remember to take it all in.

Blind to facts you’re not seeing.

Remember to believe in your dreams,

They’re the reason for being.

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