time to pretend

I don't notice the winters sting
while I'm sitting on the cliffs of seasons past,
I don't recognize remorse
(not within myself at least)
I am watching this smoke
consume the clarity of todays air.
I shouldn't do this,
and I shouldn't do that.
But here I am, dying a day at a time-
giving a shit less about how fast it comes.
and while everything I used to know
remains teetering on the edge of this rock,
I am inventing new reasons to pretend I'm someone else.
I am convinced I am the peoples tether ball,
making my rounds,
and always returning to their fist.
I know how hard they hit,
and yet I continue to orbit on back.
how lonely is my life, hanging from a string?
At least I am incapable of falling,
(but completely capable of snapping.)
in their eyes,
I am a perfect sport.
But I don't notice much,
as a heat whore,
(Such am I)
it becomes more than easy to ignore red flags.
I simply need the heat to thrive.
I need to be hated,
to continue.
And now,
as I rise to my feet,
it's time to pretend I know nothing I've ever felt,
tie my knots tighter than before,
and swing.