Destroy and Reconstruct

Where were you all those nights spent losing yourself in the crowd, really? did you find yourself at the bottom of your Manhattans? on the bed of nocturnal princesses? or at the end of every white trails of part-time heaven? the crowd might have shallowed you years ago without your consciousness. The remain might as well be an empty soul looking for short-term affection and love made out of pixie dust. the mornings sting your moral sense and shake your loneliness, and so await the night to drown your sorrow in an excess of epicurian desires too empty to make you feel complete. so i'm asking, at that moment, where were you? in the arms of another? at the end of the road with yourself... back up, you've come to an end. the end of playing games, of not facing the veracity of your sad little life. back up, you're slipping. although the bottom is not so far, back up. once you've hit the bottom, there are no coming back. just acceptance. the acceptance of the nothingness you might become. back up and start running back, back to yourself. one foot in front of the other. destroy and reconstruct. Crash and fall to better rise up.